Nature Against Nurture
by Fluttering Phalanges
Summary: The world is no place for starting a family anymore. The instinct to fight or flight far greater than any other sort of mindset now. But when Beth Greene falls victim to a fate unpredicted, Daryl Dixon most learn to cope with the arising possibility of caring for a life much greater than his own need to survive. A baby.
1. Chapter one

**Hey folks! So this is my first Walking Dead story ever and since I'm rather notorious for it, I thought, why not to a baby story? Everyone deserves a good baby story in their life! So here's the first chapter! To set a timeline, Beth is around five to six months pregnant at the time of the first chapter (italics are flashbacks, just so no one is confused about an event that may have taken place). Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! If people seem interested, I'll continue and even post the next chapter tomorrow! Hope you enjoy! -Jen**

Chapter one:

It was the light, butter yellow fabric that first caught his attention. It hung, swaying softly in the broken window outside one of the several shops that were left abandoned in the street. The mannequin it once fit was gone, broken into several pieces beneath its surface. And yet, by some sheer stroke of luck, the outfit had managed to catch itself on a stray wire and remain, despite the elements, where it had been left.

Daryl adjusted the bow on his shoulder, eyes fixated for the first time on something other than the environment in front of him. It seemed gender neutral enough, not having any sort of print or pattern to deem otherwise. He exhaled softly, breath forming a white mist in the still air. It was perfect.

"Walkers?" a voice said from behind, causing Daryl to snap from his gaze.

Michonne eyed the archer curiously, uncertain as to what had captured his attention. Her sword was posed just in case, ready to spear the first creature that should emerge from within. But Daryl only shook his head, shrugging as he readjusted his own weapon once more.

"No," he mumbled. "Just window shoppin' is all."

The woman followed his stare, catching sight of the newborn outfit for the first time. She stayed silent for a moment, eyeing the object without much expression. They had gone for a run for supplies-food, drinkable water, ammo-but she also knew why Daryl was now more than ever willing to volunteer for such occasions. And it hadn't involved his need for new arrows or the possibility of stumbling across something of economic value.

"It's nice," she commented after a moment. "Looks warm too. That'll be good come the later months. You plan on taking it?"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, continuing to watch the ever swaying piece of clothing. It'd be a good few months before it would be of any use, but that didn't mean it wasn't smart to take now. Deep down, a small part of him held the urge to go forth and explore the building for more supplies of that nature, but he knew it was too risky to do right now. Night would be falling soon, and with it, the walkers would be harder to spot.

"Yeah," he muttered, stepping forward to snatch the article from the glass shard hole it was displayed within. "I guess."

The fabric was soft against his calloused hand as Daryl gingerly shoved the object into his worn pocket. He nodded to Michonne, who understood the gesture and moved forward. The air was cool as they took the trail back into the woods, only having to take out a few walkers that crossed their path. Despite this being their first time in the area, it wasn't too difficult to locate the makeshift camp Rick had made out of an old hay barn they had come across early that morning.

"Just us," Daryl called out upon hearing a few clicks from weapons. "All good."

The interior of the barn was lit by a small fire in the aisle-way, its flames illuminating the several figures that either huddled beside or near its heat. Michonne unloaded the satchel of cans they had gathered-enough for two nights-near the blaze. Rick walked forward, gun hanging from his shoulder as he surveyed the supplies.

"How'd the town look?" He asked, thumbing over the dusty expiration dates that sat on the bottom of the tins. "Numbers?"

"Overrun, but manageable," Daryl replied, pulling his bow from his shoulder. "Looked through a good three quarters of it before it became too dark. Mostly picked dry."

"We can try again tomorrow," Michonne suggested.

"No," Rick exhaled, shaking his head. "Tomorrow we move again. Saw a sign, we're closing in on Virginia. D.C isn't much further than that." He offered a small, but tired smile. "But these cans will prove useful tonight. Thanks, both of you."

Daryl inhaled through his nose, absently licking his lips as he watched the sheriff quietly. "Know Washington is safe and all, but here is too. Why don't we just bunker down for another day. People need rest, Rick."

"We can't afford to let our guard down," Rick replied quietly. "Nowhere is safe anymore, but if there is a chance of a cure…" his voice trailed off, eyes locking onto the archer's. "I know you're worried about her."

"I ain't say that," Daryl mumbled.

"But you are," he continued. "Look, we all got things we're concerned about. Beth knows her limits. I'll consider that when we figure in resting periods tomorrow. She's a strong girl, Daryl. She's been through hell and back…we all have. It's just another hurdle to push through."

Daryl didn't respond, only rose from his spot and moved towards the back of the barn. He followed the several rows of stalls, nodding as he passed Carl, the young boy watching him from under the brim of his hat. Finally, he stopped in front of an open stable, hearing the soft whispers from within. He paused, hesitating slightly before he entered the boarded off section.

She sat on the floor, legs crossed together as Judith gurgled from what little lap she had left. Immediately, his eyes fell to the swell of her stomach, wondering if it had gotten bigger since he had last seen her this morning. Upon his entrance, Beth stopped speaking, her gaze lifting from the infant to the man as she offered a small smile.

"You're late," she teased, watching as he took a seat across from her. "I was beginning to wonder if I had to come after you."

Daryl didn't respond, only withdrew the small, now slightly wrinkled onesie from his pocket. The girl reached forward, taking it gently from the man. He watched as she studied it, her fingers softly rubbing the various seams around the collar and sleeves.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, looking up from the outfit to meet his gaze. "Where'd you find it?"

"In a window display," he mumbled, leaning against the wooden wall. "Ain't like nobody else was gonna take it."

Beth smiled, watching as Judith reached curiously towards the piece of clothing. "He's been movin' around a lot today," she said, looking towards Daryl hopefully. "Guess he's kinda like you in that sense. Startin' to even feel him when I touch my belly. If you want to see-"

Daryl looked away, gazing towards where most of the group had begun to gather around the fire for their meager servings of food. "We should go get some," he mumbled, not meeting Beth's eyes. "People ain't much about saving food anymore."

"Daryl," she began to protest, struggling to stand up. "I haven't seen you all day. Can't we just talk? For once?"

The archer didn't respond, merely taking Judith from the young woman's arms so that she had better leverage. The baby cooed, wrapping her arms around Daryl's neck as he reached out to offer Beth a hand. She refused, a look of anger and hurt washing upon her features as she managed to push herself up.

"I'm fine," she muttered, pushing past Daryl as she moved towards the group. "Not that you care to believe that."

Canned corn, plopped onto makeshift plates and bowls, found itself being passed around the circle of people. Daryl handed Judith to her brother, taking a plate himself before going over to join Beth. He didn't meet her gaze as he took a seat, dumping most of his contents onto hers before she could properly react.

"I'm not eating your damn food," she muttered, trying to redistribute what little starch sat on the plate. "Honestly, Daryl, I'm not starvin'!"

"Not hungry," he lied, still not bothering to properly look at her. "You need it more than me anyway."

"This baby isn't gonna get any bigger just by giving me what little meal you have," retorted Beth. "Just eat your own food. You're the one who goes out scouting, not me. You need all the energy you can get."

"Just shut your mouth and eat the damn corn," Daryl grumbled, tossing his plate to the side. "I'm gonna take a walk outside, make sure things look fine."

Beth watched disheartened as the man stood, grabbing the bow that rested against one of the supports as he made his way towards the closed door. He didn't turn back when she called out his name, exhaling as he pushed the entrance just slightly opened before slipping outside.

_"You did this."_

_Daryl had barely a moment to react when the small, but sweeping hand collided with his cheek. He stumbled back slightly in surprise, not expecting to receive such violence from an otherwise small woman. Maggie stood in front of him, brow raised, eyes burning with such a look of hatred, Daryl would have died on the spot if looks could kill. _

_"I know," he whispered, shaking his head. "I know and I'm-"_

_"Sorry?" Maggie laughed humorously, her voice trembling as she spoke. "You piece of shit. You goddamn pedophile. She's eighteen!"_

_"She ain't no kid anymore," Daryl shot back, anger filling his own voice. "And you'd do best to stop-"_

_"She's my fucking sister, you asshole," Maggie shouted, jamming her finger into his chest. "And you went and knocked her up!" Daryl stood their silently, the woman continuing to lash out. "This ain't no place for a baby, Daryl! You…you have no idea what it was like with Lori! What I had to do! I ain't doin' that again! Not with my sister!" _

_Daryl was shaking too, anger and shame flowing relentlessly throughout his body. He swallowed thickly, sucking in a gulp of air as he prepared himself for the full onset of Maggie's rage. He deserved it, there was no denying that. He had let his guard down, for one minute. Forgetting everything that was happening, letting happiness run its course. And now the one person he cared most about was damaged because of it. _

_"I lost my mother and my father," Maggie said through her teeth. "I will not lose Beth too."_

_"Well what the hell do you want me to do?!" Daryl shot back, finally allowing his rage to slip into his tone. "Take it all back?!"_

_"I want it gone," she replied, enunciating each syllable. "Before it has a chance to harm her."_

_Daryl grew stiff, staring at Maggie with both an expression of disbelief and uncertainty. "She ain't gonna go for that," he said quietly. "The pills…I tried to talk to her about the option. She wasn't willin'." _

_"It doesn't matter if she is or isn't," Maggie replied coldly. "We've all done bad things, Daryl. You do what you have to with the medicine. She'll understand one day." _

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a cold wind sweeping through the area. Daryl gazed up at the sky, just where the trees broke into a small opening. Clouds hung overhead, just visible in the darkness of the atmosphere. He inhaled, a drop of rain hitting his forehead as he adjusted his bow.

"Daryl!" a voice called, causing the archer to break his attention.

For a brief moment, he saw a small crack of light flood out of the barn as the door opened, a figure slipping through the entrance before it closed again. He watched as she approached, arms wrapped tightly around her chest as she trudged over to where he was standing.

"Get back inside," he mumbled. "It ain't safe out here."

"Maybe you should listen to your own advice," Beth countered, panting slightly as she managed to catch up to him. "I left you some corn…"

"Told you to eat it," he replied, looking towards the deeper part of the forest.

"And I told you not to give me your ration," she replied, a smile playing on her face. "So we're both even."

Daryl's mouth twisted into a frown as he began to busy himself with his bow. He hadn't the heart to look at Beth right now. To see what he had done. Maybe if they had taken care of it when they had the chance, the young woman's life wouldn't be constantly blinking in the back of his mind as a sort of time bomb. He knew nothing about delivering babies, except that the hospitals were really only equipped for that. And caring for them was a different story. Judith had been an exception. Judith was lucking. For all he knew, his own would be not.

"Been thinkin' of some names," Beth said quietly, looking to the archer. "Wish we had one of those little name books. I don't want to name him somethin' stupid."

"Not like it has to worry about getting bullied out here," Daryl muttered. "It'll be lucky to make it to its first birthday."

He could hear Beth inhale sharply from his side. For a brief moment, it felt somewhat good to hurt her like that. Make her feel the pain he constantly felt for what he'd done. But soon, accomplishment drifted into guilt and Daryl began to regret his words.

"You don't mean that," she mumbled.

"So what if I do?" Daryl said, tugging at his bow string a little too hard. "It ain't like it's not true, Beth. Hell, I could be dead tomorrow for all we know. This ain't the world we once knew. People die constantly, that's life now."

Beth was trembling, whether it was from sorrow or from the cold, he wasn't sure. He inhaled, watching her from the corner of his eye. Guilt began to fester stronger, tugging at the tendrils of his heart. Sighing, he finally turned to her, realizing that he'd gone too far.

"Look," he exhaled. "I didn't mean…"

But he was stopped abruptly when he noticed the look on Beth's face. She wavered, confusion and fear washing over her features as her hands traveled down to the swell of her stomach. Her breathing was heavy, uneven as she spoke.

"Somethin's…wrong," she struggled, swallowing as her knees began to buckle. "Daryl…"

He caught her before her body had the chance to hit the ground. Without even thinking, he immediately scooped her up into his arms, his back slightly protesting from the sudden change in weight. He ran, heart pounding, back towards the barn. The clock in his mind beginning to blink faster as he reached the doors. The onesie slipping from Beth's own pocket as they moved inside, catching in the cold, dying grass below.


	2. Chapter two

**First off, a huge thanks to Emma Kellog, sillymommy2010, Guest, and awolfcomeshome for your lovely reviews left for the first chapter! I greatly appreciate the support! And much gratitude to those who have favorited and followed as well. (Also I want to quickly apologize for any misspellings or anything of that sort, I'm writing on a brand new laptop so I'm still getting used to the feel of this keyboard) Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It helps me know what you think and motivates me to stick with the story. Anywho, here's the next chapter!**

Chapter two:

She lay there in a pile of discarded hay, the smell strong and musky, enough to burn Daryl's passageways as he squatted beside Maggie. Beth, who had come to seconds after her fainting spell, watched quietly as her sister's fingers danced on the sensitive part of her wrist. After a moment, the eldest Greene let the younger's hand fall, lips pressed firmly together as she met the other's gaze.

"Your pulse is fine," she mumbled. "Have you been gettin' enough to drink?"

Beth looked a little sheepish, her smile weak. "Could do with some more, I guess." Her eyes flickered down briefly to the swell of her stomach, a hand moving to brush lightly against its surface. "And the baby?"

"Fine," Maggie replied bluntly. "Won't be if you continue to forget to hydrate yourself."

"It was an accident," Beth tried to explain, watching as her sister rose from her spot. "I didn't do it on purpose. Maggie—"

But the darker haired woman had already left, moving back over to the fire to take care of whatever business she might have had. Beth exhaled, her expression somewhat hopeless as she looked to the empty spot. For weeks Maggie had been anything but friendly to her, her demeanor cold and almost calculating whenever they came in contact.

When she finally appeared moments later, her hands were clutched around a crumpled, overly used plastic bottle. Inside, the clear contents sloshed against its prison as Maggie held it out towards Beth. The girl took it, eyeing the liquid warily as her sister wiped her hands on her soiled jeans.

"Drink up," Maggie said, eyes fixed on her sister. "I'm not leavin' until it's empty."

"I'm not a child," Beth said, inhaling heavily through her nose. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Drink," she repeated, arms folded tightly over her chest. "If you can't damn well remember to take care of yourself, people are gonna treat you this way."

Beth looked to Daryl, perhaps in the hopes he would interfere with the rising conflict. When he didn't, her shoulders slumped, fingers delicately unscrewing the thin lid that capped the bottle. She began to drink, slowly downing the lukewarm liquid until none was left. It felt surprisingly good as it slid down her throat, her mind unable to recollect when the last time she had taken a drink that day.

"Happy?" Beth exclaimed, holding the now empty container towards her sister.

Maggie took it back, perhaps a little more roughly than she otherwise intended. "Yes."

Without another word, the elder sister departed, heading back towards the fire where Glenn seemed to be patiently waiting for her. For the briefest second, his gaze met Beth's, a look of sympathy present on his expression before it adverted to Maggie. Beth turned away, a little too disheartened to attempt to have a regular conversation with her sibling.

"Sorry if I scared you," she said, addressing Daryl for the first time since she lost consciousness. "Guess I lost track of rememberin' to do things like drinkin'." She gave a small smile, eyeing her stomach with a look of pride. "I think Mama used to say pregnancy will do that. Once, when she was pregnant with Maggie, she forgot she left a pot of boilin' water on the stovetop? Almost burned down the whole house if Daddy hadn't caught it."

Daryl said nothing, watching Beth quietly out of the corner of his eye. Absently he picked at the loose hay, fingernails digging into the brittle strands as the initial fear and adrenaline began to wear down. She was fine, Maggie had said so herself. But in those few seconds, he had momentarily convinced himself that Beth had—or was at least going to—die in that second. Something he'd never be able to forgive himself for.

"I never got to tell you the names I like," Beth said, her usual cheerful tone interrupting the archer's train of thought. "You wanna hear them?"

"Name it what you want," he muttered, finally sitting down completely in the hay. "Don't care."

"Well, you should," Beth said, the smile fading from her face. "It's not just my kid…"

His hand clenched around a tuff of straw, nails digging through the flesh of his palm. Some days he wanted nothing more than to pretend that this never happened. Not that he didn't want a kid. He liked them well enough, Judith reiterating that want. But he hadn't wanted one like this. Constantly on the run. Beth's life always at stake. And after losing so much, a greater part of him feared that it was far too early to get attached. So much could happen in just mere seconds. Both lives abruptly ending before the second has even a chance to begin.

"What about Kaden?" she asked, looking expectantly at him. "I've always like that…"

"Sounds stupid," Daryl mumbled. "Ain't ever known a Kaden. Is that somethin' you made up?"

"Don't have to be so mean about it," Beth mumbled, arms absently wrapping around her stomach. "I don't see you comin' up with any options."

"Lester," he replied, reaching for his bow.

"Lester?" Beth grinned, eyeing Daryl with a look of amusement. "What kind of name is Lester?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, frowning softly as he began to tinker with his weapon. "Just throwin' names out there 'cause apparently I ain't have enough to think about as it is."

The happiness faded from Beth's eyes as she watched Daryl mess with his bow. She swallowed hard, her expression becoming more firm the longer she observed his attention directed elsewhere. As it was with Maggie, Daryl had been just as distant—if not more so. And she hated it. Despised that both people she relied on, turned to, seemed to want nothing else but to help where when she needed it or otherwise ignore her entirely.

"I'm not dead," she said slowly, Daryl's gaze lifting in response. "And sure gettin' tired of being treated like I already am."

There was a long moment of pause, the bowman's eyes unmoving from the young woman's. Daryl inhaled, his grip on his bow seeming to falter as he looked away once more from Beth. He should have stayed by the fire, let her get some rest so he could let his mind wander elsewhere.

"Ain't nobody sayin' you are," he muttered.

"But you're thinkin' it," Beth interjected, desperation slipping into her tone. "Been thinkin' it since you found out! I've tried to act normal, like…like this is just another day. You don't think I'm scared too? I'm terrified! But…but I can't afford to show or feel it. I gotta think of him too." Before he could react, Beth wrenched Daryl's hand forward and placed it firmly on her swell. "He's alive, Daryl. He's alive and movin' and kickin' and he needs both of us! You can't keep shuttin' him out. It isn't fair! You can't…" her voice faded, sounding watery and uneven as she continued. "You can't keep shuttin' me."

Daryl remained still, his hand pressed flat against the side of Beth's stomach. For a few moments, he felt nothing. Yet as he readied to pull away, it was then he felt it. Light. Fluttering. Something nudged against his palm, prodding just strong enough that he knew he wasn't imagining it. He inhaled sharply, his eyes finally meeting Beth's.

"Was that—"

She merely nodded, her smile small as she moved his hand a little further down to a new spot. "Told you," she murmured. "He's been doin' gymnastics in there."

Daryl swallowed, allowing Beth to press his hand where the baby now kicked. It was the first time he had ever felt her stomach. Before, he had struggled to even glance at it. Now here he was, his hand resting against the thin fabric of her shirt, feeling the life within moving quite vivaciously. No walker could be so active. It was alive. Well. His child.

"I—"

But Daryl's words were immediately cut short when Tyreese suddenly appeared in front of them. He stood, seeming to tower over the two as they sat still. The man appeared to be a little uncomfortable, perhaps feeling as if he were invading on some intimate moment. From his jacket, he withdrew the yellow onesie, holding it out to Beth who took it gratefully.

"I found it outside," he explained, watching as the girl straightened out the creases. "When I did a look around with Rick. Thought you might like it back."

"Thank you," Beth nodded graciously, holding the outfit close to her chest. "I didn't realize it was gone."

Tyreese nodded, arms folded over his chest. "I hope you're okay," he commented, eyes fixed on Beth. "After earlier…"

"Dehydration," Beth assured him. "I'm alright now."

He glanced towards the fire, chest rising as he inhaled deeply. Though they weren't particularly close, Daryl knew that Tyreese held a decent amount of concern for Beth's wellbeing. He was a good guy, took good care of Judith when others couldn't watch her. He wasn't Rick or Glenn or any of the others he'd grown to know over the past few years, but slowly, he was becoming just as much family as the rest.

"Thanks for findin' it," Daryl mumbled, nodding toward Tyreese. "Really, I 'ppreciate it."

Tyreese offered a small smile, "Don't mention it," he said. "We do what we can to help our own, right?"

Daryl's eyes momentarily flickered over to Beth before his attention returned to the other man. "Yeah."

_The rage and astonishment that burned in Beth's eyes as she stared at the small packet of pills in Daryl's hand was enough to make the guilt flourish in anyone's chest. But Daryl stood firm, his hand extended towards the girl as he nodded towards the medicine._

_"No," she replied, swallowing hard as she took a step back. "I won't. I told you no!"_

_"Please," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Don't make me force you. I don't want to do it that way, Beth. Just…just take the damn pills and be done with it!"_

_"It's a baby, Daryl," she nearly shouted, arms wrapping around her thin frame. "I can't…I can't just kill it! It hasn't done anything wrong!" _

_"This ain't a world to bring a child into!" Daryl respond, his teeth clenched. "And it sure as hell ain't one to give birth in! You know what happened to Lori! I ain't gonna just stand here and watch the same happen to you. I can't!" _

_"Then don't," she inhaled, trembling where she stood. "Just walk away and leave. You don't have to witness anything." _

_"Don't be so damn stupid," he growled, thusting the pills towards her. "Don't fucking give up after all the shit we've been through! Don't die because of some…some…"_

_"Child," Beth finished, her chest rising and falling as she spoke. "A child, not some thing," she shook her head, taking a step closer to the archer. "I'm fine," she attempted to explain. "Healthy! Not every pregnancy is the same! I won't end up like Lori!"_

_"You don't know that," Daryl shot back. "Are you really willin' to take that risk?! It's goddamn selfish!"_

_Beth stood straight, her stature unfaltering as she met Daryl's enraged expression. "Yes." She answered, her voice calm. "I do." _

Daryl open his eyes, the pressure on his chest vaguely present as he blinked tiredly. He lifted his head, sighing softly as he noted that Beth was curled around him. He could just make out the top of her head, her blonde hair splayed over his shirt as she slept peacefully at his side. Gingerly he shifted, careful not to jostle her as he moved.

The atmosphere of the barn was hot, muggy as Daryl attempted to brush away some of the hay that covered them. Beth murmured something inaudible in her sleep, her features scrunching slightly before softening back into an expressionless appearance. Daryl watched quietly, tenderly brushing back a few strands of her hair so that they wouldn't slip into her mouth.

It was quiet, almost too silent as he reclined back in the straw, a hand hesitating briefly before relaxing on Beth's side. As he allowed his eyes to close once more, thankful that he had been left out of watch duty this one night, he heard what sounded like muffled shouting coming from the outside of the barn. Immediately he sat up, ignoring Beth's soft, confused protests as he looked to the entrance. In that moment, something flew through the top window of the structure, landing but a few yards away from where Daryl and Beth were located.

Daryl could only watch in horror as the building surrounding him immediately erupted into flames, the roar from the blaze nearly overpowering the pops of rifles from the outside. His blood turned cold, a sickening feeling rising from the pit of his stomach.

They were trapped.

**Just to clarify, Maggie doesn't hate Beth. She is just incredibly worried about her sister and therefore has transformed her fear into anger. Much how Daryl feels guilty and concerned about all of this. But don't worry, when there is much angst, eventually some fluff will arise from it. Anywho, sorry for another cliff hanger. I promise it won't always be like that! As said before, reviews are greatly loved! It is my first time writing a Walking Dead story so I'd really appreciate any feedback or advice you have to offer! Will hopefully update tomorrow if inspiration strikes! -Jen**


	3. Chapter three

**As usual, much gratitude to BelleCelestyn, Wanderlustt, NanamiYatsumaki, sillymommy2010, Destineyrose18, Emma Kellog, and Nicki for their wonderful feedback messages for the last chapter! And a wave of thanks to those who have favorited and followed. Last night, I actually had a dream about this story-sort of-and if I do continue with it and if I ultimately decide to do a sequel (no promises) I had the most epic idea! Anyway, that wouldn't be for a long while so until that point in time, here is the next chapter!  
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Chapter three:

It was an inferno that one might imagine Hell would be depicted as. Flames rose several feet high, the roar of its blaze thundering as the old wooden boards crackled and crumbled at its mercy. The smoke was thick, black against the burning illumination as Daryl held his forearm to his nose and mouth in an attempt to shield himself from the poisonous gases that leaked from the atmosphere.

"Beth," he shouted, coughing violently as the oxygen thinned. "Beth!"

He was standing now, his previously grip on the girl gone when a beam had fallen between them. He looked around frantically, his heart pounding as debris crashed around him. The heat was unbearable, the hair that covered his arms singed away as the fire drew closer. But he couldn't leave now. Not without Beth.

"Beth," he tried again, pushing towards the back of the barn. "Beth!"

The sound of gunfire was lost, engulfed by the towering flames that licked at every surface. As he drew further into the storm, it was then he caught sight of a figure. She moved towards him, one hand held forward while another cupped her mouth and nose. Beth. Instantly, he too reached forward, grasping her hand tightly before he wrenched her against him.

"We gotta get out," he yelled, his grasp tightening around her frame. "Don't let go."

He moved quickly, his side sweating where Beth's heat mixed with that of the fire's. Faced with a patch of wall that had yet to be touched by the blaze's unrelenting destruction, he kicked viciously, ignoring the searing pain as the wood began to slowly give way to the blows. When he had created a hole just large enough to crawl through, he immediately shoved Beth down, his concerns for being gentle far less important than those of having her survive.

"Go," he called out. "I'm right behind you!"

Stones and sticks dug into the archer's palms as he managed to slide through the opening, tendrils of flame lashing towards his feet as he met the cool earth on the outside. Scrambling to his feet, Daryl caught sight of Beth standing a yard or so away. She looked frightened, in shock, the suddenness of it all catching her more off guard than she had been in awhile. And without much thought to his own injuries, he ran to her, grasping her by the arms as he looked her over.

"You alright?" He panted, his eyes scanning her small frame for any sort of wound. "Beth, say something—"

She swallowed, nodding her head, body trembling against his touch. "You're burned," she exclaimed, eyes fixated on his own arm.

For the first time, Daryl looked down at his own self, finally realizing the extent of his damage. His right forearm was burn, not to any major extreme, but enough that he felt the pain upon his noticing. He inhaled, chewing the inside of his cheek as the ache in his limb seemed to worsen by the second.

"I'm fine," he assured her, his gaze meeting hers. "It's nothin'."

Suddenly from behind, the familiar pops of a rifle caught Daryl's attention. He grabbed Beth, swinging her behind him as he reached for his bow. For a few moments, confusion swarmed into his mind as he felt at the empty space on his shoulder. It was then, after the uncertainty died down, that the horror sank to the bottom of his stomach. His eyes snapped towards the fire, to where the building they were in only seconds before was crumbling. The bow was gone.

"Shit," Daryl hissed, angry at his own recklessness. "Son of a bitch!"

If he didn't have Beth to worry about, he would have been back inside in an instant. Probably a decision he would end up regretting, but that bow had gotten him much farther than he would have gotten alone. Teeth ground together, he squinted towards the sparsely forested area several yards ahead. Figures were moving about, far more agile than any sort of walker could be. He could have sworn one was Rick, a firearm aimed at another who fell moments later. The scene was absolute chaos.

"C'mon," he mumbled, tugging Beth behind him. "We gotta move."

"But the others," she protested, her own gaze fixed on the battle ahead. "We can't leave…"

"We don't got weapons," he stated, pulling her as the moved further from the barn and deeper into the brush. "And the walkers will be comin' soon with all that noise." He could feel Beth resisting his touch, trying to break away from his hold. "We'll come back," he promised, stopping briefly to look her in the eyes. "When it's over, we'll find them. But it ain't just about us anymore. We gotta think of him," he paused, his attention briefly directed to the shadowed swell of Beth's abdomen. "…Like you said."

It seemed like the most logical reason Beth would be willing to abandon her sister and the rest of the group once more. Whoever had attacked, they came prepared. Daryl couldn't risk going into a fight without any sort of protection. He couldn't risk losing Beth again. And though it stuck him like a knife in the chest to run off from Rick and the others, there were other things now that were far more important.

The ground crunched beneath their feet as Daryl and Beth hurried through the woods. The bramble was thick, catching on their clothing the deeper they traveled. His arm ached, chest burning as he pushed further into the woods, his grip never lessening on Beth's hand. He could hear Beth panting, inhaling sharply whenever she momentarily lost her footing. But as the gunfire grew more distant and the smoke became less traceable (except what saturated their apparel) Daryl's pace began to slow.

"An opening should be head," he panted, coughing once to clear his airways. "Think I came this way with Michonne."

Beth closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. It had been awhile since she had to full out sprint. Daryl watched her quietly, waiting until she seemed to gain at least some of her energy back. When her eyes reopened, her stare was wild as she looked past his shoulder.

"Daryl!" she cried, "Look out!"

Instantly, Daryl wound around, coming nearly face to face with the rotted features of a walker. Its mouth moved, jowls hanging down in thick, decaying sheets of skin. It reached out, boney fingers grabbing towards him as a low growl rumbled from its mouth. Daryl swung at it with his foot, his shoe crunching against the brittle knee as the creature fell forward. It stared up at him, glazed over eyes wide and expressionless as it continued to snarl, only to be silenced when the archer's foot went through its brain.

Daryl glared down at it, his mouth forming into a frown as he shook a piece of scalp from to toe of his shoe. When he glanced back up, Beth was staring at him, her arms wrapped around her stomach as her eyes flickered down once at the unanimated walker. Daryl exhaled, straightening back up as he threw a few quick looks around the area in case there happened to be more lurkers.

"Thanks for that," he mumbled, nodding toward the walker. "Would've made tonight even worse if I'd been bit."

"Yeah," Beth exhaled, her arms unmoving from her frame. "No problem."

They continued to walk briskly, the trees providing some guard against the wind as they moved towards the edge of the woods. Daryl glanced over at Beth every so often, if for any reason, just to make sure she was still there. When they came to a spot where the tree line broke into an empty field, Daryl held his arm out, blocking Beth from going forward.

"Easy," he warned. "Let me go first."

Beth was far too tired to argue with Daryl's insistence, so she merely took a step back. The archer stepped out, feeling naked and vulnerable without his bow as he glanced around. It was dark, the moon just barely breaking through the layers of clouds as he glanced around. The field itself was empty, barely covered by the dominant grass that seemed to go on for acres. It wasn't the way he had originally come with Michonne, that much was clear, but it seemed relatively reasonable to cross. That was, as long as those who hadn't attacked were stalking them.

"Alright," he said, looking back to Beth. "C'mon."

The open air felt good against the burn on his arm as Daryl moved quietly through the pasture with Beth by his side. Eventually, if they came across some water, he made a note to rinse it off. Better not risk infection in this stage of the game. He looked over to Beth, noticing as she seemed to drag herself more than walk with purpose. He knew she was exhausted, especially after a surge of adrenaline from something like that. But she didn't complain or protest to this vigorous activity, something he was grateful for.

"We'll rest soon," he said after awhile. "Just gotta get a good distance away."

"Who do you think did it?" She whispered, glancing over at the bowman. "The fire?"

Daryl shrugged, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand before snorting. "Dunno," he mumbled. "Probably someone we pissed off."

Beth nodded, biting down on her bottom lip as she peered behind her. She didn't need to speak for him to know what she was thinking about. Maggie. Who had and who hadn't made it out of the barn in time, they didn't know. And whether Rick had managed to fight off the intruders was as good as a mystery as any. But they were safe, for now at least. And that to him was far more important than any damn bow.

"You said you had some names," he began, looking toward Beth. "Let's hear 'em."

It was the only conversational topic that seemed to come to the archer's mind now. Something that didn't involve the others or the prospect of impending danger. Perhaps that's what Beth needed right now. A distraction. And if anything, that was what Daryl could give her.

"I don't have too many," Beth admitted, glancing down at her stomach. "Just a few…I just want to have some idea in mind. They don't need to go around nameless for a week like Judith did." She paused, seeming to think for a moment. "Maybe Rose for a girl. Or Abigail… I was thinkin' of all of the cows we used to have when Daddy was involved with dairy production."

"We ain't namin' it after some cow," Daryl commented, giving Beth a look.

"Technically the cows were named after people," Beth said, offering a small smile. "Anyway, they were just suggestions."

Daryl nodded, squinting ahead further than where they stood. In the not too far distance, the field seemed to thin out into a road. Gravel, from how it appeared, not at all smooth like it had been done over in concrete. It would be something to follow, at least. Maybe eventually take them to somewhere where they could rest for a bit. A place that was out of view enough but reasonably close so they could backtrack to the remains of the barn if they so chose to. A task that Daryl would be doing alone, unbeknownst to Beth yet.

"I thought about what you said," Beth continued as they approached the road. "About Kaden? …I don't think I much care for it now." She shrugged, glancing over at him with a small smile. "I prefer Henry anyway."

"Henry?" Daryl mumbled, his eyes still fixated on the area ahead of them. "What inspired that?"

Again she shrugged. "Just came to me," she admitted. "Thought it sounded nice."

"It ain't the worse thing you came up with," Daryl agreed. "Maybe."

As they came to the stretch of road, the archer veered towards the edge of the forest. The trees would shield them from any watchful eyes, offering the only protection either party had at the moment. It wasn't much, but until they came across otherwise, it would have to do.

"Stay close," Daryl mumbled, watching Beth out of the corner of his eye. "Don't want us separating."

It was a strange sort of silence that would make anyone uneasy. The wind was no longer blowing, the air far too cold for any insects to be out. And yet, despite the circumstances, at least the feeling of loneliness had dissipated. Daryl could feel Beth's heat as she brushed against his skin, hear in breathing whenever she took a particularly large inhale. She was there. Right beside him. And as long as it stayed that way, Daryl couldn't ask for much more.

**Yay, not a cliff hanger! That's a first. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed. To be honest, I kind of have an idea as to where this is going, but if anyone has any ideas, please do not hesitate to share them in the comments! Advice is always gratefully read and might appear in a future chapter. Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Seriously, it keeps the updates frequent and the story going. Until next chapter! -Jen**


	4. Chapter four

**Much gratitude to ****Midnight Saki****, ****Guest****, ****sillymommy2010****, DarylDixon'sLover, Halcyon Impulsion, and ****XTREMENINJA10**** for the incredible reviews for the last chapter! Seriously, folks, you are the reason this story keeps getting updated. Now, without further ado, here is the next chapter. **

Chapter four:

It was the dull, uncomfortable ache in his back that first roused Daryl Dixon from his slumber. He blinked, wincing as sunlight leaked through the cracks between the slats of wood that hung above his head. At some point during the previous night, he and Beth had come across an old box stand probably used for deer or boar hunting before the world went to hell. It was small, clearly not made for more than one person, but they had managed to squeeze inside nevertheless. Far from pleasant, but better than being open and vulnerable on the ground.

He shifted, attempting to stretch in what little space there was. His knees hurt, legs numb from lack of blood flow as he cracked his fingers until they created a loud, rather satisfying pop. He could feel the weight from Beth's head where it rested against his sternum. His gaze traveled down, locking on her smaller form where she curled against him. Her features were peaceful, one arm looped around her stomach, the other draped across his lap. It didn't appear to be the most comfortable of positions, but they hadn't a lot of space for anything else.

"Beth," he murmured, lightly squeezing her shoulder. Briefly, he watched in slight amusement as her expression scrunched together, eyelids slowly lifting to reveal the large, gray orbs that were distinctly hers. "Hey," he muttered. "I gotta go take a piss and then I'm gonna try to find us somethin' to eat. You can stay here, try to get some rest or somethin'."

"I can come," she mumbled, voice laced with drowsiness. "I don't mind."

He merely shook his head, gingerly helping her sit up when she attempted to do so herself. He wasn't completely lying to her. He really did need to use the bathroom and finding something to eat was one of his top priorities, but now seemed as good a time as any to return to the burn site. Maybe they'd be lucky, Rick and the rest still there. It was risky to say the least, which was why he wanted Beth to stay behind. If it came down to it, he'd be much faster without having to concern himself with her in tow.

"I won't be long," he promised. "Just pull the ladder up after I leave. Don't let it down unless it's me. And if I ain't back in a few hours or so, you go on without me."

A look of alarm flashed across the girl's face at his words. Daryl hoped it wouldn't come to that, but steps needed to be taken for her sake if it did. He offered a small, halfhearted smile, eyes flickering down to the swell of her stomach. Gently, he reached forward, resting his hand just to the right of her belly button. He couldn't feel anything in particular, the baby most likely sleeping-as Carol explained all fetuses did at certain times during the day-so he didn't let any other thoughts on the subject worry him.

"Don't let him give you too much trouble," he said, sliding towards the entrance. "I'll be back soon." Their eyes met, Beth's concern still very much evident on her features. "I swear."

The old, fallen leaves crunched underneath Daryl's feet as he trudged along the path towards where he vaguely remembered the field being. The burn on his arm stung, the flesh around the initial area red and waxy as if he had applied some strange beauty ointment to his skin and it left a greasy smudge. It could have been much worse, he later decided. At least it wasn't a bite.

Several yards to his left, the archer noted a few walkers stumbling through the empty pasture, their attention directed elsewhere from him. None looked like anyone he knew, their skin far too rotted and torn to have been from a newly dead body. This was slight relief in itself. A vague glimmer of hope that perhaps Rick and the others had made it out alive. He continued on, thankful that the wind was still and could not carry his scent.

When he had finally crossed the area and entered back into the woods, already he could smell the burnt rubble of what once had been the barn. His pace slowed, gaze alert as he looked around for any potential enemies. Even if there was no one at the site when he got there, he needed to be careful as not to lead anyone back to where Beth was. Her condition to fight had deteriorated, the pregnancy taking somewhat of a toll on her usual activities. Traveling now would be much harder than it had been. Daryl having witnessed an ever present change in the months that followed the conception.

Much to his surprise, most of the woods that had surrounded the barn were still intact. Trees crusted with black soot, the ground in ruins, but not completely gone. He moved cautiously, listening for any sort of noise that might signal he was being watched. As he approached the heart of the arson, his gaze caught something metal glinting underneath a pile of fallen roof tin. He went towards it, carefully tugging back the debris to reveal—much to his astonishment—a slightly bent, but still very much intact crossbow that had been shielded, along with a few sparse arrows, from the blaze.

"Well shit," Daryl smirked, tugging his prized possession from the cinders.

It didn't seem too bad off, still completely usable. And with what arrows had survived, though most were either snapped into two or burned beyond recognition, it would offer some protection. His lips pressed into a small smile, he began to dust the weapon off, his attention only drawing away from it when he heard the familiar snarl of a walker.

Near him, about a few yards or so off, the half charred body of one of the creatures lay stomach first. Its skin was blackened, bubbled off from the fire. As to any recognizable features, there were none. Daryl wondered if perhaps this was the man he had seen Rick shoot only hours before. Or, a more less welcoming thought, one of his own friends. He tried to push such images from his mind as he stepped forward and quickly ended its suffering with an arrow to the skull. He wouldn't share this with Beth.

After a half hour or so of scavenging, Daryl could find no evidence linking to what had happened to Rick and the others besides the now dead walker. He managed to find a single can of apricots, sliding the object into his pocket before he slung the bow over his shoulder. Silently he walked the few miles back to where the box stand was located, noticing immediately that the ladder was down.

"Beth?" he called out, concern slipping into his tone.

Suddenly there came a rustle from behind him, Daryl immediately turning—bow posed—to the perpetrator. Beth stood in front of him, hands held forward in alarm as his arrow was pointed but a few inches from her forehead. Instantly the archer's shoulders relaxed, bow lowering at the sight.

"Jesus Christ, girl," he hissed. "I coulda killed you! I told you to stay in the damn treehouse!"

"I needed to pee," Beth protested, arms folded over her chest. "You went back to the barn."

"Wanted to check a few things out," he muttered, his eyes locking her over as if he half expected her to be injured or something. "No sign of the others."

"I could've gone with you," she frowned. "Honestly, Daryl, I'm not incapacitated." Her eyes flickered over to his bow, a slight look of amusement playing on her features. "See you found it."

"Managed to make it somehow," Daryl muttered, fishing around in his pocket. "Here," he withdrew the can of peaches and held them out to her. "Breakfast."

Beth took them, her thumb absently rubbing at a smudge of dirt that had caked itself into one of the creases of the can. "You'll have some too, right?" She asked, watching as he walked behind the closest tree, the sound of a zipper being tugged down meeting her ears.

"Not hungry," he muttered, some comfort finding him about finally being able to relieve himself. "You have it."

Before she could argue, Daryl returned to his original spot and took the can. Using one of his arrows, he pierced the top and managed to maneuver it off. He handed it to Beth, watching as she eyed it hesitantly. Without a word, she brought it to her mouth, drinking the syrup that was locked inside before indulging in the fruit. The bowman looked on, his own stomach twisting in hunger as she devoured the meal before his eyes. It wasn't much, and the sugary liquid was not substitute for water, but she needed all the food she could get right now. Babies sucked up a lot of nutrients, he remembered how it was when Lori was still alive and pregnant with Judith.

"Keep the can," he said, lifting his bow from the ground. "We can use it for getting' water."

"Where are we gonna go?" Beth asked, remaining still as Daryl turned and began to walk. "Everyone else…"

"We'll do what Rick said," he mumbled. "Head towards D.C. Maybe we'll be lucky and catch them within a few days. If not, we'll be goin' to the same place."

Beth nodded her head, her arms winding around her stomach as she moved to catch up to Daryl. The temperatures had begun to drop, a steady, but light rain falling as they trudged through the forest. The back of the archer's throat burned, the need for water becoming more obvious the longer they journeyed. He could hear Beth's breathing beside him, her pace not as fast as his. When he looked over to her, he could see her cheeks were flushed, chest rising and falling as her lungs processed the oxygen they could.

"Let's stop," he said, eyes glancing around the area to make sure they were alone. "Take a breather."

"I'm fine," Beth insisted, nodding her head as she inhaled deeply. "Just short winded, is all." She winced, a hand pressed momentarily to her side. "He's kickin' a lot," she mumbled, gingerly massaging the spot. "Right against my kidneys." She paused, her smile somewhat tired. "I was hopin' all this walkin' would put him to sleep. Usually does."

"Probably all that sugar from those apricots," he teased, his eyes meeting Beth's. "Wish he'd give us some of that energy."

"You're tellin' me," she sighed, her hands pressed to her lower back. "Could really use it right now."

Easing down, Beth took a seat on a log, her eyes closing briefly as she exhaled. Every muscle in her body ached, her feet and back receiving the worse. The end to her second trimester was quickly approaching, that much she could assume. But as to when her due date was or any other timelines of that nature, she was virtually clueless. Keeping track of time was rather difficult now. Even more so when they were on the move so much.

"I hope we're right about this one," she said suddenly, looking to face Daryl. "I hope it isn't another dead end."

"What do you mean?" The archer asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"D.C," she replied. "I hope Abraham is right. I hope there really is a cure and we're not just walkin' into another overrun town or a trap." She looked down, gaze fixated on the bulge of her belly. "I want us to be right this time."

"Me too," he agreed, following her stare. "He seemed to know what he's talkin' about."

Beth nodded, her hand touching a spot on her stomach. "It didn't matter before," she exhaled. "I mean, it did, but not like this… I guess," she paused, lips pressed tightly together. "…it's different now."

Beth didn't need to say she was referring to the baby, Daryl already knew. His eyes watched as her thumb lightly caressed a spot, her expression like someone who was deep in thought. They had been surviving over two years in this world. Scavenging for food. Scouting for shelter. And though it was important to him that they eventually did find a way out of this, it didn't seem as important until now.

"Don't worry," Daryl finally said, Beth lifting her gaze to meet his. "In a few years, he'll be runnin' around out in public singin' whatever crap he's gonna listen to just like you did. We got time. Who knows, this time next year, maybe things ain't gonna be so bad. Like you always say, there's hope..." he paused, nudging a stick with the toe of his shoe. "Or somethin' along those lines."

He didn't necessarily believe it himself, his mind much too focused on the present and very close future, but he knew it was something that'd make her feel better. Beth gave a small smile, her head leaning to rest on his shoulder. Daryl let his hand rest on her knee, thumb smoothing against the fabric of her jeans. Despite everything else that had happened, they were both alive right now. Something that was an accomplishment in itself.

"C'mon," he mumbled, standing before he offered her a hand. "We should get goin'. Don't want to be stuck somewhere when it goes dark."

Beth nodded, allowing Daryl to help her up. As they began to walk again, her hand slipped into his own, fingers locking around the bowman's. They continued on, moving deeper into the woods. Completely unaware of the figure who watched them from afar.

**I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. Writing a fanfiction about Walking Dead is a completely new experience for me, but I am absolutely loving it! Beth could've been a little more hopeful in this chapter, but meh... I'll work on that. Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Updates would not happen as often without that little bit of motivation each one of your comments instills in me. And, I'm sure after all, you want to know who is following Beth and Daryl. Stalkers are never usually a good thing. Especially during the apocalypse. Anywho, until next chapter! Also if there is anything you'd like to see, please feel free to let me know in the comments! I'm always looking for ideas! -Jen**


	5. Chapter five (Part One)

**Super short chapter! This won't happen again, but when I start a story, I like to update every day for a week before I get on a more normal updating schedule, and due to having both class and work today, this update is fairly short (which is why it's only part one of a chapter). So, to begin, as usual, a multitude of thanks to NanamiYatsumaki, northwest-walking, sillymommy2010, DarylDixon'sLover, yhim817, MamaDCB, Quest, Kshawbee, Emma Kellogg, and Delishus for the incredible reviews you left for the last chapter! And much gratitude to all of those who have favorited and followed! Now, to continue!  
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Chapter five: (Part One)

_It had been a particularly warm morning, the rain offering what little comfort it could as Daryl stepped out into the misting dawn. The previous night's stay happened to be in an old boating house of all shelters, the walkers thankfully small enough so that it was relatively simple to clear. The archer inhaled, staring off across the seamlessly never ending lake that lay before him. Most of the group was still asleep, Michonne and Carol offering to take the first watch of the day so Rick could get some much needed slumber. _

_As Daryl moved towards the edge of the pier, he caught notice of a figure kneeling over the edge. She was leaning towards the water, her back arching as she appeared to be dry heaving. Within seconds, the bowman's mind connected the appearance with those he knew, his heart momentarily stopping as he realized who it was. Beth. _

_Instantly, he was at her side, a hand reaching forward to scoop the blonde hair that fell into her face. She vomited, the sludge mostly water and bile as she coughed violently, her shoulders trembling as the initial sickness wore off. When she sat up, Daryl could see that her face was red, cheeks flushed with what he assumed was fever. Had she eaten something expired last night? In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but remember the sickness at the prison. The thoughts chilling as his eyes scanned over the girl. _

_"Hey," he mumbled, kneeling down in front of her. "What hurts?"_

_"Nothin'," she mumbled, swatting away at his hand when he moved to feel her forehead. "I'm fine now."_

_"You ain't lookin' too peachy," Daryl replied, his tone laced with concern. "Looks like you threw up most of dinner and then some." He exhaled, looking back towards the boathouse. She needed water, if anything to wash her mouth out. "How long you been out here? Why didn't you wake me up?" _

_"I said I was fine," Beth snapped, her mood taking the bowman back slightly. "I'm not sick."_

_"I ain't no doctor," Daryl said, his own voice growing stern. "But that back there sure as hell ain't just nothin'." _

_Beth swallowed hard, her chest seeming to heave as she met Daryl's worried stare. She looked nervous, almost timid as she opened her mouth. Daryl waited, half expecting to hear that she'd been having other sorts of ailments besides this one. But never, in a million years, did he anticipate what slipped from her lips next. _

_"I'm pregnant."_

Daryl adjusted his bow in hand as his eyes stared at the large, white house before them. The paint, though slightly faded, appeared to be somewhat new as if the building had been built within just a few months before the outbreak. The archer moistened his lips, throwing Beth a quick glance. She stood at his side, her own attention fixed on the structure before them.

"Maybe there's food inside," she suggested, looking to Daryl.

"Could be," the bowman shrugged, positioning an arrow in the crossbow. "Stay behind me."

The door creaked as Daryl pushed the entrance open with his elbow, revealing a dark interior that was barely lit with what little light slipped through the curtained windows. He could feel Beth at his back, her breathing soft as the floor underneath their feet groaned from the new weight. His fingers tightened around the neck of the arrow, eyes flickering to every corner of the room. It seemed empty enough, but the archer had learned that was usually never the case.

"Stay down here," he mumbled. "I'm gonna check the upstairs."

The staircase was covered in a fine layer of dust as Daryl slowly climbed the planks of wood. The air was thick, surprisingly warm when he reached the top level, the light much brighter from the uncovered windows that surrounded it. Carefully, he began to make his way down the aisle, nudging doors open with his bow, ready to fire if the situation so called for it. Again, nothing.

As he reached the final door, a soft noise from inside caught his attention. Instantly he stiffened, bow and arrow posed as he pushed the entrance open, half expecting to become face to face with a walker. But instead there was nothing, his eyes instead catching sight of a much different sight before him.

It was a small room, much more decorated than the rest. The walls were a soft green, lined with various pictures of bears and other animals. In the center a crib sat, its intricate frame draped with soft, white blankets that just barely hide the bars of the furniture. To the left, a window was open, the wind blowing against a mobile that hung from the ceiling causing it to occasionally release a note or two from its song.

Someone or some people had really put a lot of time and effort into this room. But whether it had ever been occupied or simply done in preparation, Daryl was unsure. He began to move about, opening various drawers filled with neatly folded wash rags and infant outfits. Whoever it was, when they left, it was in a hurry. As Daryl lifted up a pair of yellow knitted booties, a muffled noise caught his attention. Beth.

Everything was instantly abandoned, the shoes cast aside as the archer hurried down the hallway and descended the steps, the crossbow pointed in front of him as he headed towards the living room. As his foot passed over the threshold, Daryl immediately stopped in his tracks. There, in the middle of the room, Beth stood perfectly still, eyes wide and arms by her side. Against her neck, a knife was positioned, held just tight enough so that Daryl could see the blade was just a slight pressure away from piercing the skin. His heart began to pound, mind racing as a figure stared towards him, uncut and dirty.

"I ain't wanna hurt no one," he said slowly, his eyes fixed on Daryl's bow. "Jus' give me ya supplies and weapons, and we ain't gonna have an issue."

Daryl's eyes flickered to Beth's, her gaze fixating on his. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out her hand reaching back behind her, straining towards something that glinted in between the couch cushions. To his horror, the man seemed to take notice of what she was doing. His hand tightened, the knife drawn against the sensitive flesh of the girl's neck.

Without much thought, Daryl suddenly kicked at the coffee table that separated him from Beth, knocking it against the intruder. The man stumbled back, Beth pressed to his chest as he regained his balance. In seconds, he had pushed her to the ground, his knife raised as he leaped towards Daryl, striking at the crossbow before the archer could get a clear shot at him. They wrestled, tossing back and forth on the ground as Daryl gripped the man's wrist as he attempted to bring the weapon down on the bowman's chest.

That was when someone fired a gun.

**Again, I apologize for the length. It will not happen again. I just really wanted to post today. I think officially, after the first updating week is up, updates will be schedules for Saturdays (at least on those days, I may update more). Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Let me know your thoughts! Until tomorrow (or maybe even later tonight, no promises)! -Jen**


	6. Chapter five (Part Two)

**As usual, a tidal wave of gratitude to sillymommy2010, brandyo123, twdsbethyl, Delishus, PolkaDotSocks93, northwest-walking, cherrywineBA, deedee014, and Emily Kellog for the lovely feedback messages you left for the last chapter! And much thanks to all who have followed and favorited this story too! Okay, I would say more but I just want to get into the next part! Here we go!**

Chapter five: (Part Two)

The sound echoed throughout the two story building, almost deafening to the archer's ears. The man, who had moments before been driving his dagger down towards Daryl's chest, had suddenly stopped. He crumpled down lifeless on top of the bowman, something dark and wet sliding down his temple and onto Daryl's clothing. When the few seconds of initial shock had worn off, Daryl immediately shoved the assailant off, grabbing the knife from where it had fallen on the floor in case he suddenly reanimated. But it was clearly almost instantly that such would not occur. The bullet had gone straight through the head, no exit wound insight.

Daryl's gaze lifted at once, falling onto Beth who sat shoved up against the front of the couch. She was staring back, though eyes seeming unfocused as she clutched a small pistol between her hands. The archer rose, moving to her side as she continued to point the weapon towards the corpse in front of them. In shock no less, that much he could determine. Besides that one time at the prison, Beth had never needed to kill another living being. And certainly not one she had, though negatively and briefly, associated with.

"Are there others," he asked, yanking his bow up as he looked around. "Beth, are there more?"

"I…I don't…" she swallowed, her hands trembling as she continued to stare at the dead man. "I don't think so."

The bowman's attention then turned fully on the girl, noting the pink, but unbroken line of skin where the knife had pushed against her flesh. He looked her over, eyes focusing on each and every exposed part of her body in case she had been hurt elsewhere. Beth sat unmoving, gun still pointed until Daryl gently took it away from her and sat it down.

"Goddamn bastard," he growled, looking towards the body. "He ain't get you elsewhere, did he?"

"…I killed him," Beth mumbled, looking down at her hands. "I didn't mean…you both were fighting and I…I pulled the trigger…."

"The bastard got what was comin' to him," Daryl assured her. "You ain't done nothin' wrong."

"He didn't deserve to die," she continued. "He was just scared."

"Scared? The asshole would've killed us both without a second thought," the archer replied, slight anger slipping into his tone. "He deserved every bit of what happened to him, and then some."

"No one deserves to die," Beth said, finally looking up to meet the man's gaze. "Not even him."

Daryl held the young woman's gaze, her expression far from the cheerfulness it usually held. No matter who it was, Beth Greene had a way of finding something decent and deserving in people. Something Daryl had struggled to find since his childhood and still did. Yet he knew the idea of hope and good people were still important to her. Maybe one of the main reasons she kept going. A prospect he wouldn't shoot down despite his lack of true faith.

"I wanna bury him," she concluded, pulling Daryl from his train of thought. "He deserves that at least."

"We ain't got time for that," he exhaled, glancing over to where a pool had begun to form underneath the man's head. "But maybe we can cover him with a sheet and make a marker or somethin'. Nothin' too fancy." His gaze flickered over to the handgun, still laying at Beth's side. "Where'd you find it?"

"In the kitchen," she admitted. "Inside one of the cupboards. Someone was hidin' it, I guess. I hope they found somethin' else to use."

Daryl nodded his head, lifting up the weapon to examine it. It wasn't anything particularly too fancy, maybe worth about two hundred or so dollars if he remembered the retail market at the time correctly. But protection wise, it was good to have on hand. Who knew when they might need it again.

"I'll take care of him later," Daryl promised, rising to his feet before offering Beth a hand. "C'mon, there's somethin' I wanna show you."

They climbed up the staircase, Beth trailing behind Daryl. When they reached the top, he motioned for her to follow him down the long stretch of hallway. The last door was still wide open, Daryl not thinking to have closed it when Beth had been in trouble. Stepping inside, Daryl moved against the wall, watching the sullen expression on Beth's face slip away into complete awe as she caught sight of the nursery.

"I thought since it ain't been used by someone else or nothin'," he began, his stare following Beth as she went about the room. "We could maybe take some of the stuff. Not let it go to waste and what not."

As he had done previously, Beth began to go through the various drawers of baby outfits, pulling a few out that caught her attention before neatly folding them back as they had once been. She stopped momentarily when a small, blue elephant toy caught her attention. Gingerly, she took it from the shelf, grasping it between her fingers as her gaze fixed on the object.

"They were really excited," she whispered, clutching the doll close to her chest. "And they never got to use it." She looked up, meeting Daryl's eyes. "I wonder where they are," she inquired aloud. "Maybe…maybe they have a new nursery… The baby would be a toddler now. I wonder what they named it."

Daryl hadn't the heart to suggest that maybe the parents had died, the child along with them. He could only watch as Beth lightly stroked the stuffed animal's fur, her fingers lingering on its surface as she placed it back on the shelf. She remained quiet, her hand moving down to rest on her stomach, eyes falling onto her swell. The corners of her mouth twitched, forming a small smile as she continued to look down.

"I always thought about bein' a mom," she said, caressing the side of her abdomen. "Plannin' out the nursery. Takin' those silly Lamaze classes even though Daddy said they don't do much good. And make a photo album with all those pictures they take of the baby in the hospital. Give 'em to him or her when they're old enough as a keepsake." She inhaled deeply, her shoulder slumping. "I can't really say this is what I imagined. Not that this baby isn't a blessin' all on its own but…" she paused. "You kinda want things to go as you imagined them, you know?"

"Things ain't never go how I imagined them," Daryl mumbled, bending over to scoop up the fallen booties he'd dropped previously. "But everythin' seems to work out somehow."

He walked over, holding them out to Beth. Gently, she took them from his palm, examining them in the window light. Slowly her smile became more genuine as she thumbed over the tiny, white wool balls that sat on each toe. Handmade. Someone had put a lot of heart into making these. Whether it was the mother or another relative, she wasn't sure. But the baby, wherever it may be now in the world, had and still hopefully was very much loved.

"We'll take what we need," she decided, looking over to Daryl. "And leave the rest. If they ever come back…I think they'd like their stuff."

A few varying onesies of different sleeve length, two burp clothes, a packet of pacifiers, and a couple of other items of that nature found their way into a makeshift knapsack. Beth watched as Daryl stuffed the supplies in the bag, waiting until everything was properly stored before she added the pair of booties. The archer's eyes met hers, Beth offering a small smile as she glanced towards the woolen shoes.

"If it were me," she said. "I'd want someone to use them. I think they'd understand."

For the rest of the daylight hours, Beth and Daryl found themselves exploring the empty house. There were a few baked bean cans in the back of the pantry, hidden behind cobweb and dust, along with a jar of preserved tomatoes. As Beth went about opening them, the bowman took it upon himself to remove the body from the house.

He dragged it a good several hundred yards from where they would be staying in case it happened to attract any walkers. Despite what he had promised the girl, Daryl didn't bother with any ceremonial drapes or markers. The man had tried to harm Beth and his child, putting him out of his misery and making sure he didn't regenerate was enough kindness as it was.

"I couldn't find anythin' to heat them up," Beth said when he walked into the kitchen. "But I guess cold beans and tomatoes are better than nothin' at all."

They ate mostly in silence, the only sound being the clank of silverware against ceramic as the pair scooped what little sustenance they had from its bowls. After the dishes were abandoned in the dirty sink, Daryl led Beth up the steps and into what once must've been the master bedroom. Clothes lay strewn about, every drawer opened as if the previous couple had rushed to escape the impending infections. Daryl watched as Beth climbed onto one side, not bothering to remove her shoes or any other article of her outfit in case they too were made to flee.

"Feelin' alright?" he asked, eyes flickering down to the swell of her stomach. "Wish it wasn't so damn stuffy in here."

"I'm fine," Beth said, slowly reclining back amongst the pillows. "Feels good to lay down on somethin' that isn't ground or wood. Back's been kinda botherin' me."

Daryl nodded, grunting as he too leaned back against the pillows. Besides the coffin from those several months back, he hadn't really had anything proper to sleep on. Inhaling deeply, he allowed his eyes to close momentarily before reopening them to look over at Beth. She was curled to one side, eyes staring straight forward-yet gaze seemingly unfocused-as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Beth," the archer inquired, suddenly sitting up at the sight of her distress. "What's wrong? Is the baby—"

"No," she sniffed, swallowing hard. "We're fine. Everythin's fine…I just…" Her mouth pressed tightly together, brow furrowed as if she were desperately trying to stop the tears that flowed across the curves of her face. "Just thinkin' is all."

Maggie. The group. Having to kill another living person. All were plausible answers to Beth's sudden sorrow. Since they had met, there had been only a few times the archer had seen her cry. The emotions that brought it forth becoming less and less apparent the longer they had known each other. But these past few days had been more mentally and physically difficult for her in her current state than most anything they had witnessed in the past several months.

Gently, Daryl moved closer to her, easing his arms around her as she continued to weep. He held Beth as she cried, not minding that his shirt was getting damp from her tears or that her nose was running or that she smelled of sweat and walker from their earlier encounters. He knew he couldn't smell or look much better. Slowly his hand stroked her arm, chin resting on the nest of frizzy, knotted blonde hair that was falling out of her ponytail.

"I was thinkin' more 'bout that name," he murmured when Beth's tears had subsided. "Henry? It ain't bad…kinda like it, I guess. Least it ain't stupid soundin' or somethin' someone could easily make fun of. Henry Dixon. Got a nice ring to it too."

Beth peered up at him, her face pressed against his chest. "What if he's a girl?"

The archer shrugged, inhaling deeply. "Guess we'll figure it out if that happens." The corners of his mouth twitched into a small, almost playful smirk. "We could always name her after one of those cows..."

She let out a watery laugh, sniffing as she swatted at the bowman's arm. "Hey," she smiled. "You don't gotta keep teasin' me 'bout that. I take it back."

Daryl gave a small smile, letting his hand rest on the side of Beth's stomach. He could feel the fluttering against his palm, the baby moving about just as actively as the time he had first felt it. Something swelled from deep within the man's chest, a feeling he hadn't often experienced in his lifetime. Pride. There wasn't much good left in the world, most turning to what they could to survive. But there was a chance, a great sense of hope that maybe this baby, though months from being born, could be something when others couldn't. Restore what hope of humanity Daryl had left. Give the name Dixon something to be thought proud of.

"It'll all work out," Beth said, pulling Daryl from his thoughts. When he looked down, he noticed that her hand rested on top of his own, fingers small and slender in comparison to his. "Whatever happens, it will for a reason. You'll see. We'll be alright."

Daryl's gaze fixed on Beth's, a flicker of hope once again present in her eyes. And with it, the fear of losing her suddenly resurfaced. After everything they had been through. The pain. The suffering. The happiness. He couldn't lose her. That just wasn't something he could afford to let happen.

"Yeah," he mumbled, exhaling as she nestled closer. "Gotta be."

**I feel that Beth is one of those people who will continue to show and have hope for humanity no matter the circumstances. Even in the midst of being attacked. She still has a way of showing regret and sorrow for actions that may now otherwise not be found with most people. And that was something Norman Reedus brought up why Daryl needed Beth in a sense. That flicker of light at the end of a tunnel. I hope to continue that. Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It seriously keeps the updates coming and this story going! I have a super long work day tomorrow so I'll do my best to update. If not, then Monday! Until next time, folks! -Jen**


	7. Chapter six

**I'm overwhelmed at the amount of support this story has gotten! It's been climbing followers left and right! Thank you so much, folks! I seriously appreciate the fact that people are interested in this fic! As for the last chapter, an avalanche of gratitude to PolkaDotSocks93, Delishus, Quest, Kshawbee, Halcyon Impulsion, NanamiYatsumaki for the fabulous reviews you left for the last chapter! Now to continue on! **

Chapter six:

It had been a week since the barn incident, or at least Daryl was sure he had calculated seven days past the fire. He and Beth had been following the road for the last six, heading towards what they believed would eventually take them to Washington D.C. Not many road signs had been left standing, and those that were had been graffitied over with useless phrases such as "repent" or "God help us". Perhaps the only means of comfort was the daunting fact that the herds of walkers seem to be growing much larger and more frequent the further they went. Cities tended to be more populated than the rural side, meaning that if the lurkers grew more prevalent, than surely they were slowly making their way to one.

Beth's attitude seemed to become less cheerful the longer they walked, Daryl noticing how she wasn't as inclined to talk or to offer any words of encouragement. However, he mostly just shrugged it off as exhaustion and hormones as they continued on, only taking the occasional few breaks to have something to eat or to allow Beth a few moments of rest. Yet when they found a spot, seemingly walker-less compared to others, to have lunch, concern raised in the archer's mind when the girl refused the half a can of beets he offered her from his pack.

"Not hungry," Beth mumbled, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "You can have it."

"You gotta eat, Beth," Daryl said, holding the can in front of her. "You can't jus' keep tryin' to skip meals. It ain't good."

"I said I wasn't hungry," she repeated, lips twitching into a frown. "Stop shakin' that thing in my face."

Daryl exhaled, slamming the can down on the ground. The contents sloshed, but luckily the precious nutrients they held inside were left unharmed. Daryl rounded to face Beth, evidently growing agitated with her lack of...well...anything these past few days. It was mostly worry, which of course translated into anger when it came to the archer, but Beth seemed far from willing to offer any sort of comfort at the moment, only making things worse.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he grumbled. "You've been actin' weird for the past several days. Somethin' on your mind that you'd like to share?"

"I can't use the bathroom," Beth muttered, not meeting Daryl's gaze as she spoke.

"That's it?" He growled. "You can't piss? There are hundreds of trees 'round here. Jus' choose one and go squat behind it!"

"I can't use the bathroom," she repeated, much slower this time as she looked to meet Daryl's gaze.

For a moment, Daryl found himself slightly confused at the young woman's statement. Then it hit him. A wave of guilt washed over the archer as he continued to stare at Beth's emotionless expression. She was constipated. Maybe three or four days into it from what he could determine. He'd had it bad back when he was a kid, when Merle gave him a block of cheese once for lunch. But then at least he'd had a bathroom, several wrestling magazines, and some milk of magnesia a school nurse had given him. There was nothing of the sort out here. And worse, Beth was pregnant. On top of everything else, the combination must've been hell.

"Oh..." he mumbled, glancing down briefly at the ground. "I didn't..."

"I'm not hungry," she said, looking down at the can. "I just want everythin' out of my system, not stuffed in."

Daryl nodded, finding the conversation slightly awkward but knowing it needed to be out in the open. He inhaled, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked to Beth. He was no doctor, not ever really attending one when he was a child, but he knew of some remedies that may help. At least, that would if they could come across them. And even then, success wasn't exactly assured. But he was willing to do whatever to make Beth feel better.

"Maybe we find some fruit or somethin'," he mumbled. "Like those big raisins."

"Prunes?" Beth inquired, her brows knitting together.

"Yeah, those," Daryl nodded, lifting the can from the ground. "Ain't gotta be that hard. Don't think people really were gunnin' for them when they raided the stores."

Beth inhaled, her mouth twitching into a thin smile, the likes of which Daryl hadn't seen in awhile. "Guess we just gotta find a store, huh?"

The temperature was beginning to drop as Beth and Daryl began to make their way further down the road. Winter had begun to take its full effect, trees now completely bare of leaves and replaced with the eerie. dark branches that seemed to twist among each other. Beth wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself tightly as a gust of wind blew unforgivably against her unprotected frame. They weren't in Georgia anymore, the weather growing much harsher than either of the pair had experienced before. They'd need find some winter clothes soon, or they'd certainly succumb to the horrors of the elements.

"You alright?" Daryl asked, looking over to Beth as she stood hunched a few feet back.

She nodded, her arms relaxing as the wind slowly died off. "Just cold," she mumbled.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me too."

They continued on, the walkers surprisingly scarce as the road grew wider and more divided with the various vehicles that had been abandoned on its surface. If the threat hadn't been so great, perhaps the archer might have attempted to start one of the cars. But the chance of having it backfire and alert the several unaware walkers that roamed their path was not worth having something that may carry them a few miles if they were lucky enough. But good fortune was hardly in anyone's favor nowadays, and Daryl wasn't willing to risk the lives of Beth and the baby for his own reckless urges.

"Stay close," the bowman mumbled, his bow posed as they began to weave their way in and out of the various automobiles. "Can't afford to get separated now."

The asphalt thankfully muffled their steps more than the gravel had as Daryl approached a walker from behind and quietly ended its suffering. He looked to Beth, watching as she carefully stepped over the corpse before his attention returned to the road ahead of them. The sun was slowly being covered by the heavy, dark clouds that had gathered in the sky. Daryl only hoped they meant rain and not the snow he was beginning to feel would fall at any given time. Of all the months for Beth to have fallen pregnant, it had to be in winter.

"We should consider alternatives if we don't make it to Washington," Daryl said quietly, gripping Beth's wrist as he guided them through a few walkers that stumbled nearby. "In case somethin' happens."

"What do you mean?" Beth asked, a look of confusion crossing her features. "Of course we're gonna make it to D.C."

"If somethin' happens," Daryl repeated, glancing over at her out of the corner of his eye. "If Abraham's plan ain't what it's cracked up to be."

"I can't afford to think like that," she replied, sidestepping a body that lay sprawled in her path. "The baby..."

"Who we gotta consider no matter what happens," he continued. "We gotta have options, Beth. We can't just survive on the damn hope of D.C actually workin'. What if it ain't anythin' but an overrun area? I ain't raisin' no child in place where the politically undead could pour out of some hole in the White House and attack. I have enough hatred for politics as it is."

"Where else would we go?" Beth asked, her voice lacking any sort of excitement. "All we have to go on right now is D.C. They're the capital of the United States, Daryl, there's gotta be somethin' there! Maybe...maybe the president is still alive. Maybe they have a cure. Maybe..."

"The cowardous piece of shit that abandoned us all?" Daryl muttered, crushing the head of a legless walker with his foot. "I ain't trustin' no one but myself when it comes to safety." He paused, his tone somewhat softening. "Back when we had the prison, I heard that in the north, there are places set up. The walkers don't do good in the cold. If D.C fails, we could always move north. Try to find one of those places. Settle down as a family."

"What if it's like Woodbury," Beth mumbled. "Or that place you mentioned? Terminus? These places...they're just rumors, Daryl."

"So is Washington D.C," he retorted, looking to her. "And you're just about skippin' to get there as if you already know it will be safe."

"It will be safe," Beth said, confidence slipping into her voice. "I have faith."

"Faith can only get you so far," he muttered, releasing an arrow into a walker's head as it caught notice of them. "Just...keep the other option in mind. In case."

They fell silent again, the only sound being the occasional thump of their shoes as they moved down the road. Daryl kept his bow ready, his eyes wandering in case something were to appear in any given directions. As he took aim of a walker not but a few yards to their right, he was suddenly caught off guard when Beth, with surprising speed in her current condition, sprinted forward to catch something on the ground.

"Christ, woman," Daryl hissed, hurrying over to where Beth was kneeling on the ground. "What the hell-"

But when he caught sight of what she was holding, the words immediately ceased from his tongue. Clutched between Beth's hands, the familiar, worn brown sheriff's hat that he'd begun to recognize from the past two years sat looking far tattered and torn than he'd ever seen it before. Enough so that he wondered if it was even possible for it to be the same one he knew so well.

"Carl," Beth mumbled, holding the hat close. "They're alive."

"We ain't know if that's his," Daryl said slowly, his heart pounding as he eyed the piece of clothing. "There are millions of hats like that."

"I know it's his," she said, looking up to the archer. "They came through here."

"Beth..." Daryl paused, hesitating on what he planned to say next. "Carl...Carl would never leave it behind."

Thoughts of what might of happened to the group began to surface in Daryl's mind. Murder. Captured. There was no chance in hell that Rick's boy would've just abandoned that hat without a good reason. He cherished that thing. Maybe even more than Daryl and his bow. The archer licked his lips, watching as Beth studied the object carefully. They had come through here, how and what state, they didn't know. But they had.

"Help me up," Beth said, clutching the hat to her chest with one arm while the other reached towards Daryl. "They have to be close. We've gotta find them, Daryl."

The bowman did as he was asked, pulling Beth up gently as she continued to hold Carl's supposed hat close. They started walking again, Beth moving with much more brisk than he'd seen her use in awhile. Where her faith ran high, his only seemed to sink. The Grimes kid would never go off anywhere without his father's gift. No matter the circumstance. And as Beth smiled, wide and genuine, motioning for him to follow, Daryl wasn't so sure if he wanted to discover the mystery as to what happened to their group mates.

**Semi short chapter, but I have a nine hour work shift today (a girl needs money for college) and I wanted to have something posted! I hope you enjoyed! I forwent breakfast and lunch to get something posted. I promise, chapters will be much longer, it's just been very busy with midterms and such. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It seriously keeps this story going! And would be a nice welcome home present to come home to after a long day's work. Anywho, until next update! Everyone excited for tonight's episode? I know I am...if I make it home in time, that is. *fingers crossed* -Jen**


	8. Chapter seven

**Almost a hundred follows on this story! I am absolutely in awe! Thank you so much, folks! And a huge amount of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Quest, PolkaDotSocks93, northwast-walking, Midnight Saki, Kshawbee, Guest, Briony, and klaroline-heart for your lovely reviews left for the last chapter! Now enough of my babbling, off to the next chapter! (Just to inform you all, this story is rated "T", there is a scene that alludes to sex, but there is no actual sex in this chapter). **

Chapter seven:

_She was standing before him, what little moonlight leaking through the window illuminating her body. Her skin was pale, void of any marks except those faded on her wrists and the few freckles that sparsely appeared on her frame. Despite the warm weather, she trembled, her hands lightly shaking at her sides. Daryl too felt nervous and yet, a strange sort of excitement he had never experienced before. He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath, blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and landing in such a way it was like those pictures of mermaids inside of giant clam shells._

_"Well," Beth exhaled, her mouth twitching into a small smile. "Say somethin'."_

_"You look...nice," Daryl concluded, sitting flat on his sleeping bag. "I ain't really done somethin' like this before."_

_"Nor have I," she replied inhaling heavily, arms still hanging at her sides. "You scared?" _

_"Don't be stupid," the archer mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks. "I ain't scared of nothin'." _

_Daryl had done much in his lifetime, mostly as prompted by Merle, but romance was never one of them. He was new to this. Inexperienced. Unprepared. And yet, something about Beth just drew all of his emotions out of him. She wasn't like the other girls he'd met throughout the years. Rough. Dangerous. Smelling of cigarette smoke and cheap convenient store wine. Beth was kind. Generous. Hope. He drew an uneven breath, letting his eyes take in every inch of her that had been hidden until now. She was beautiful. Perfect. But his tongue seemed to be unable to find such vocabulary now. Talking hadn't ever been his strong suit. _

_"We ain't gotta do this," he mumbled, shifting against the fabric of the mat. "We can stop."_

_"No," was her response. "I want to."_

_There was such confidence in her voice, everything else seeming to fade away. For the first time, he felt that they were truly alone in the world. Never mind that the others were all fast asleep on the opposite side of the door or that walkers still roamed about outside, in this moment, there was only Beth. Daryl held out his hand, eyes never leavings hers as she approached and took it gently in her own._

_"C'mere," he murmured, pulling her gently down onto him. "If I-"_

_"You won't," she assured him, her free hand cupping the side of his face. "I swear." _

A large glob of fat fell into the fire, causing the flames to hiss loudly. Daryl looked up from the ground, noting that the squirrel was nearly, if not completely cooked through. He moved forward, turning the spit as the smell of the meat wafted through the air. It wasn't much, but thankfully the animals were reasonably larger due to the approaching season. Yet one squirrel wasn't enough to feed two people. But of course, until the opportunity came along, it would have to do.

"You want the front or the hindquarters," Daryl asked, looking towards the makeshift tent that sat not but a few feet away from the fire. "I ain't gonna care either way."

From the open flaps, Beth's head peered out. Though the lighting was scarce, Daryl could still make out the exhaustion across her features. Today had been much longer than any of their other traveling excursions. Mostly because of the girl's persistence to locate the group after finding Carl's hat. But after hours of searching and hope slowly lost, Daryl decided that they should retire for the night, setting up camp not too far from the main road with tin cans, sting, and a tarp hung up for shelter. Beth ultimately taking a nap while Daryl hunted close by for whatever he could scrounge for dinner-which happened to be the squirrel.

"How long was I asleep?" she mumbled, looking towards the fire. "You coulda woken me up to help you."

"Needed some alone time," he lied, beginning to strip the meat from the skeleton. "I hunt better that way."

Beth crawled out from underneath the shelter, pushing herself up to go join him by the warmth of the blaze. As she sat down, Daryl offered her a small piece of the animal, eyeing her carefully as she hesitantly took it. She was still not completely feeling well, the store visit forgone for the time being when Carl and the others came into the picture. The archer watched closely as she nibbled at the food, her lack of appetite worrying him for the sake of her health and the baby's.

"I know you ain't feelin' too good," he said, gaze fixated on the mostly untouched meat. "But you can't jus' not eat."

"Feelin' nauseous," Beth mumbled, picking up the piece of jerky from where it sat on her knee. "Maybe if I went back to sleep, I'd feel better by the mornin'."

"You ain't doin' nothin' til you eat," Daryl replied, handing her another piece of squirrel. "You wanna find Carl and the others? You gotta get the energy first. Ain't doin' anyone any good if you're goin' around faintin' from lack of food..." he paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "You remember what Maggie said."

The corners of Beth's mouth twitched into a small frown. Daryl inhaled, readying himself for an argument when the girl's shoulders dropped, a look of relent crossing her expression as she brought the meat to her lips and took a somewhat larger bite. It was a step, not anything close to having her eat as she should, but having some effort put into it was better than none.

"When'd you get so bossy," she commented, offering Daryl a small smile.

He shrugged, pulling off a piece of the animal for himself. It didn't taste any good, the meat far too tough and chewy for the archer's liking, but he continued to consume it anyway. His thoughts were far from focused on the need to eat as it was, his mind wandering back to Carl's hat-now safely secured underneath the tarp. Had they really gone the way he and Beth were currently walking? Or did the wind just happen to blow it to the location it was discovered? There were so many questions, so many possible dead ends. The likelihood that they would even reach D.C and, if so, would find the group were slim to none.

"I've been doin' some math," Beth's voice sounded, tugging Daryl back into reality. "Or tryin' anyways. But I figure the baby won't be too much younger than Judith. Give or take a year and some months. Maybe they'll be friends," she paused, eyes flickering down to her stomach. "It'll be different havin' two babies in the group. But I guess he can wear Judith's hand-me-downs. That's a plus, right?"

"He ain't gonna be wearin' no girl clothes," Daryl mumbled, shoving another mouthful of squirrel past his lips. "He ain't even born yet and you're already plannin' to embarrass him."

"It's not like he'd remember if we had to," Beth muttered, picking at her piece of meat. "We take what we can get. It isn't like there's much else."

"He ain't wearin' girl clothes," Daryl repeated, tossing the now bony carcass of the animal out into the woods. "Not if I can help it."

The fire had begun to die down by the time Daryl's exhaustion really started to set in. The archer exhaled, kicking dirt and stone over the glowing embers until the last of the light was vanquished. Beth was already underneath the tarp when he entered, her arms forming a makeshift pillow underneath her head as she stared up towards the ceiling. He was slightly surprised she hadn't fallen unconscious already, but ignored questioning it as he settled down himself. Rocks and sticks stuck into his back as he adjusted himself, a slur of curses slipping from his mouth when one rammed into his side. It was far from comfortable, but it would have to do for the night. There weren't houses or structures around that would offer any safety here. One of the downfalls of sticking to the highway.

"Sometimes I just like to be still and feel him move, you know?" Beth whispered, eyes fixated on the top of the shelter. "Kinda let's you know that no matter what, you aren't alone."

Daryl didn't respond, only allowed his eyes to closes as he listened to her continue.

"I get scared when he doesn't," she said, a hand moving to rest on her stomach. "Like, sometimes, he just stops all together. I know he needs sleep but I get to thinkin' that maybe he's..." her voice trailed momentarily. "...but then he does and I feel so much better. Like this wave of relief I didn't know was there washes over me."

The temperature had dropped significantly since Daryl had left the fire. Though the wind was no longer thankfully blowing, the air was icy and rigid. Daryl moved somewhat closer to Beth, hoping that by doing so, their body heat would keep her warm enough through the night. They were in desperate need of better clothing, something he was beginning to think was far more important than keeping on the trail to find the others. A coat, a jacket, anything to keep them from freezing to death as the colder days quickly approached.

"Do you love me?"

For a brief moment, Daryl was caught in between his thoughts and her words. His eyes opened, a part of him wondering if he had heard her right. Beth was staring back at him, her expression unmoved as if she was awaiting to hear his response. The archer swallowed, confusion swarming his mind as he met her gaze, brow knitting together as he tried to focus on her statement.

"What?"

"Do you love me," she repeated, clear as day now.

It was a statement he hadn't expected, one that was completely random and had caught him off guard. He looked to Beth, trying to find the words to answer her. He hadn't really ever thought about love. The phrase having never been in his vocabulary, even as a child. His mouth opened, silence seeming to slip out as he struggled to answer what she had asked.

"I-"

He was interrupted by the sound of cans clinging together, a much louder noise than anything the wind could have brought forth. Immediately he was on his feet, hand grasping his bow as he moved out from underneath the tarp. Something or someone was out there in the shadows. The air once more still as he crept towards the boundaries. A walker would be growling now, not concerned with trying to stay hidden. This was something else.

"Stay back," he muttered, looking to where Beth was leaning out from the tent. "Don't-"

He felt it before the noise of the gun had even filled the atmosphere. A hard, jolting pressure in his right shoulder that knocked the breath out of him. Daryl stumbled backwards, his fingers trembling around the neck of the bow as someone distantly shouted his name. Beth. He looked to her, his vision blurring as his legs gave way from the sudden amount of weight that seemed to be pressing his body down. He crumbled to his knees, unable to shout for her to run as a figure stepped from the tree line, shotgun in arm. Something wet had begun to spread from where the pressure had been, now replaced with a seering pain that burned worse than the blaze of the fire.

Consciousness waved in and out of the archer's vision as the figure stepped closer, his face shielded by some sort of mask. His mind went to Beth, to the baby as darkness began to cloud his reality. He gripped his crossbow, finding it far heavier than he remembered as he tried to lift it in the hopes of rendering his assailant useless. It was then that something hard and cold struck his temple, the final push as Daryl fell into the unknown oblivion of unconsciousness.

**I wasn't planning to do a cliff hanger, it just sort of happened. However, I am absolutely excited that I can now work with this new character who will be revealed next chapter. Until then, Daryl's fate as well as Beth's will be left for you to ponder. Also I remember Norman Reedus saying that when it came to romance, Daryl would be someone who'd be new and awkward to the concept, so I attempted to convey that in the alluded sex scene. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I would love to hear your thoughts or if you have any ideas or suggestions. Who do you think it is? I'm rather curious if someone already knows. And to answer a question I got, I write a chapter each day (I don't have anything pre-written). Until next update! -Jen**


	9. Chapter eight

**As usual, a multitude of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, Delishus, Halcyon Impulsion, PolkaDotSocks93, Midnight Saki, Emma Kellog, cherrywineBA, cybil2113, northwest-walking, and Scifigirl22 for your incredible reviews left for the last chapter! I seriously appreciate it, folks! And thank you everyone for getting this story over a hundred follows! That is just awesome! Okay, enough of me rambling, to the chapter! **

Chapter eight:

It was the unforgiving, sharp pain in his shoulder that let Daryl Dixon know that he was still very much alive. Consciousness came in waves, his body slick and hot with fever as his vision slid in and out of clarity. Try as he might to grasp reality, such seemed so distant now. Every inch of him hurt, the jolts of agony seeming to shoot throughout his entire frame. Occasionally, he'd catch a glimpse of Beth, her face contorted into a look of pure worry that faded into the haze of color and intertwined objects which glimmered in front of his eyes. Whether it was truly her or some allusion, he wasn't sure. When he attempted to open his mouth, to call to her, no sound escaped. Vulnerable. Weak. The tendrils of oblivion wrapping around his limbs and tugging him once more into the dreamless void of slumber.

"You're not gonna go turnin' on me, are you?"

The voice was a low baritone like none the archer had heard before. His eyes opened, gaze slowly fixating on the figure who stood over him. He was a dark man, his face the only visible part that was not draped with layers of clothing. Maybe late forties, early fifties, he towered over Daryl, his stare firm and unreadable as the two men consciously acknowledge each other for the first time.

Without thinking, Daryl attempted to push himself up into an upright position, instantly regretting his choice when the throb in his shoulder and the side of his head flared at the unexpected movement. Nausea rose in the pit of his stomach, vision spinning as the man's hands found their way onto his chest and forcibly eased him back down.

"Easy," he muttered. "Take it slow, son."

"Don't fuckin' tell me what to do," the bowman hissed, shoving the stranger's hands away with his uninjured arm. "Get outta my face!"

The man relented, stepping back just enough to give Daryl some space. As his eyes began to scan and take in his surroundings, it wasn't long before the sickening realization hit that he was no longer out in the woods, but in what appeared to be a rundown, junked up trailer. His heart began to pound, questions swarming his mind as one in particular stood out over all other concerns.

"Beth," he breathed, eyes immediately locking on his assailant. "Where the hell is the girl I was with? If you hurt her, I swear I'll—"

"Daryl!"

Despite the ache in his temple, his head turned towards the sound of his name. There, standing but a few feet away, an arm curved around her stomach as relief flooded across her features, was Beth. Instantly she was at his side, arms wrapping around his neck as she embraced him tighter than she'd ever done before. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying not to cry out as his shoulder protested from her touch. Instead, he grunted softly, letting his good hand rest on the small of her back. She was alive. That was all that mattered now.

"You got shot," she explained despite him already being well aware of that. "I didn't know if...you were out for over a day. I...I probably would've been in pieces beside myself if Morgan hadn't helped."

"Morgan?" Daryl muttered, glancing towards the man. "So that's your damn name?"

"He didn't mean any of it," she assured him, arms slowly unwinding from his neck. "He...he thought we were someone else. He's a good man, Daryl. He saved your life. Brought us here. Without him, we would've both been..." her voice trailed off, eyes meeting his once more. "I'm just so happy you're okay."

"That don't excuse the damn fact that he shot me," the archer frowned, trying to nudge Beth behind him as he sat up further. "Where's my bow? Or did ya feel the need to cause harm to that too?"

"Daryl," Beth mumbled, shooting him a look of displeasure. "Stop it."

"Back up against that wall," Morgan said, nodding to a spot with his head. "Haven't touched it since we got you here. Nice craftsmanship though, I'm impressed."

The bowman's eyes followed the other man's gaze, locking on the familiar object that was set up against the side of the trailer. It seemed relatively in one piece, all of the arrows-what few there were-still attached in the harness. And beside it, making it by some stroke of luck, he noted their bag too. It held, after all, what few infant items and cans of food they had gathered. That was, if this man hadn't confiscated them at some point in time.

Daryl winced, cursing softly as he attempted to push himself up into a standing position. His whole body fought against the action, his shoulder especially stinging as he waved Beth away when she tried to get him to lay back down. This man, Morgan, had proved to be a threat. Whether Beth said otherwise or not, Daryl wasn't going to take any chances at this point. There were still good people in the world. Somewhere, he liked to think. But finding them right now was not on his agenda. Even more so with the pregnancy looming in his mind. Terminus had done a number on his ability to trust and with Beth and a baby on the way, he wouldn't risk the prospect of becoming friendly with someone he didn't already know.

"Hand me my crossbow," he mumbled, feeling dizzy as he looked to Beth. "We lost enough time as it is."

"Daryl," Beth protested, refusing to move from her spot. "You aren't in any condition to go out. You _were_ shot."

"I'm fine," he muttered, walking over to where his bow rested against the wall. "Jus' c'mon, we're goin'."

"I wouldn't advise that," Morgan exclaimed, eyes following Daryl as the archer leaned heavily against a counter-top. "Place is overrun with walkers now. It'll probably be a few hours before it clears up some."

"I ain't interested in what you gotta say," Daryl growled, gripping his bow haphazardly as he met Morgan's stare. "You jus' be glad I ain't in the mood to kill you. Beth, c'mere."

But much to Daryl's irritation, Beth did no such thing. She stood completely still, arms folded over her chest as she watched Daryl stumble about collecting what little they had brought with him. He struggled, attempting to set both the bow and bag over his one good shoulder. When the backpack ultimately slipped off, the contents spilling across the floor, Daryl shouted in aggravation, kicking a dented can which rolled underneath the table in response. His chest rose up and down, head throbbing as he leaned against the small kitchen counter, the threat of vomiting becoming more likely as pain mixed with lack of energy.

"You're just gonna make things worse," Beth said, finally stepping forward to tug the crossbow from his body. "Sit down and let me have a look at your shoulder. I wanna make sure you haven't gone and messed up the stitches."

"At least have somethin' to eat and drink," the other man suggested, moving to snatch the discarded tin from the floor. "It isn't like you've had a lot in the past twenty four hours."

Daryl just stared at Morgan coldly, no words escaping from his mouth as he let Beth lead him back over to the makeshift bed. He sat down slowly, gripping onto Beth's forearms to steady himself. His gaze never left the man as Beth began to tend to his wound, ignoring her chiding about how he had loosen some of the apparent fishing string that had been used. Her caring so much about people was going to end up getting her into trouble one day. If such wasn't happening right now.

"You like soup?" Morgan asked, moving over to the stove. "Got a can of chicken noodle. It isn't half bad. Split one with her," he nodded to Beth. "...the other day while you were out cold. Nice to have lunch with someone."

The sniffed, wiping his nose with his free hand as Beth continued to hover over him. Though he wasn't in the mood to admit it allowed, soup sounded rather delicious at the moment. He couldn't remember the last hearty meal he'd had. Most being either squirrel or cold cans of beans and vegetables. He glanced over at Beth as she lowered herself down beside him, a hand resting on her swell as she met his stare with a small smile.

"I am sorry," Morgan continued, lighting a flame on the gas stove. "About the whole shooting you thing. But you gotta understand. When all I see is a figure approaching me with a weapon, I'm gonna save my own skin before I try to talk it out. You coulda been bit or..." he paused. "...worse. But when I saw your girl, I realized you two couldn't be such bad people. Especially since I hear you know Rick."

Almost instantly, Daryl's attention returned to the man. Morgan was staring back, his face calm as the archer's brows knitted together processing what had just been said. Surely he couldn't be referring to the same Rick he and Beth knew. The universe was far too large for such a coincidence to take place. And yet, Daryl's heart rate still seemed to increase as he eyed Morgan with the utmost interest.

"You know Rick?" he inquired, both doubt and disbelief slipping into his tone. "Rick Grimes?"

"The very same," Morgan nodded, stirring the soup. "Met him when my son nearly killed him after he stumbled onto our lawn."

"And where's your son?" Daryl asked, his voice lacking any sort of emotions. "Don't see anyone else here but us three."

An expression crossed Morgan's features that took the bowman slight aback. It was the same pained look that he too had experienced internally on numerous occasions. One of loss. Despair. Despite everything that had happened between them, a small wave of guilt washed over the archer. Beth inhaled deeply, a hand resting on his knee as she looked to Morgan, the man attempting to busy himself as he stirred the soup.

"We've both lost people too," Beth said gently. "I'm really sorry about your son. What was his name?"

"Duane," Morgan replied, pulling the now darken can from the stove top. "His name was Duane."

Daryl secretly hoped Beth wouldn't suddenly decide that that's what they should name their child, and was quite relieved when it was not brought up. He watched as Morgan poured the soup into three dusty glasses, the amount just enough for each person to have a few sips. He mumbled some form of thanks when one was handed to him, not realizing how hungry he was until he took his first mouthful. Rich. Creamy. What may have one been nothing more than a fifty cent can of chicken broth and noodles now tasted as good as a Michelin Star feast.

"Never really liked carrots," Beth commented with a small smile, swirling her soup around in the glass. "Until I was pregnant."

The corners of Morgan's mouth twitched slightly upright at her words. "My wife was very into strawberries when she was pregnant with Duane," he commented, taking a seat in a broken chair. "Had me runnin' out nearly ever day to buy her some." His eyes flickered down to the bulge of Beth's stomach. "You hopin' for a boy or girl?"

"Doesn't matter," Daryl cut in, taking another gulp of his meal. "So long's it's healthy."

Morgan nodded his head, "That's what's most important nowadays, isn't it?" His gaze flickered over to the dirty window, blinking at what little sunlight could seep in through the mud and other grim that caked it. "So you both headin' to D.C, right? To find Rick's group? Beth was tellin' me last night." He inhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Been tryin' to find ya'll myself. Months now, I think. Lost track of time after awhile."

"Maybe," Daryl mumbled, still not feeling completely as comfortable as Beth was about sharing their plans.

"Look," Morgan exhaled, his eyes fixing on Daryl's. "I know we started off on the wrong foot, but we both got the same plans in mind," he took a breath. "She's only gonna get farther along and when that baby comes, you're gonna need all of the help you're gonna get. I can provide the extra protection. I'm not much, but I can offer you what you need." He paused, taking a moment to sip from his glass. "People out there...sometimes I find myself wonderin' if they're worse than walkers. Let me come along. Let me help. I won't be a burden."

Daryl looked to Beth, noting the hopeful expression that glistened in her eyes. Apparently Morgan had already sold her on the idea, whether it had been now or when they had talked while he was out. This man had shot him. Knocked him in the head with a gun. But he had also spared him. Saved him from certain death. His gaze wandered, landing on Beth's stomach. They had a few months before the baby came, but then what? A future with him trying to fight off herds solo while Beth tried to escape unable to fight with the baby? Normally he'd take more time to think about this. Consider all of his options. But there just wasn't time for that now. Not anymore.

"We leave tomorrow," Daryl said. "And if you try anythin', don't think I won't kill you. Because you and I, we ain't friends. We ain't ever gonna be friends."

Morgan only gave a small smile, lifting up his cup of soup as if in a toast.

"Tomorrow," he agreed. "May God help us."

**I know the last time Rick saw Morgan, he had kind of lost it, but after seeing him in the season premiere, I thought what better opportunity to bring him along with Beth and Daryl? I thought it would be awesome to develop him as a character and have him grow friend-relationship wise with Daryl. The poor man needs all the help he can get with a baby on the way, after all. Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Keeps the updates coming daily! Let me know what your thoughts are and if there is anything you'd like to see! Until next update! -Jen**


	10. Chapter nine (Part One)

**Another short chapter unfortunately! Sorry for the lack of updates these past few days. I am currently finishing up a book I plan to legitimately publish (or at least, send to the publishers) by the end of this year. As well as work and school taking up a lot of my time. I seriously cannot believe that this story has over ten thousand hits on it so far! You guys are amazing! As usual, a wave of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, PolkaDotSocks93, lucky713, cybil2113, NanamiYatsumaki, Midnight Saki, Quest, Kbeeshaw, peppermintpatti, idon'tlikepeople, brandyo123, briony, islandgirl33, and rckyfrk for your incredible reviews left for the latest update! And so, as we left off, here is the next installment!**

Chapter nine: (Part One)

The frigid temperatures cut through the atmosphere like a butcher's knife as the three occupants of the trailer stepped out into the daylight. Daryl gripped his crossbow, most of the weight resting on his good shoulder as he trudged through the littered highway. The herds had finally passed, only a few walkers lingering as they silently made their way down the road. Every step sent a jolt of pain to his injury, his mouth tasting of blood from biting down on his cheek in an effort to keep from crying out. He was far from any decent condition to be traveling, the gunshot-which had thankfully been straight through and not lodged somewhere in his body-only being held together by some cheap fishing string that Morgan had acquired. He felt sick, nauseated from the ache in his head and the spasms in his shoulder. But he dared not complain. It was, after all, vital that they continued on.

"Daryl?" Beth's voice sounded worried, that was the last thing he needed her to be concerned about now. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the archer mumbled, sniffing deeply as the cold weather began to irritate his nose. "Don't you worry 'bout me. Jus' keep your eyes open in case somethin' comes out from behind a car."

It was a little unsettling, Morgan adorning an outfit that reminded Daryl of something a bio terrorist might wear when releasing a mix of chemicals into a crowded room. Why he had to keep nearly every inch of him covered, he didn't quite understand. Yet the man had lost a great deal, it would be no surprise to the bowman if some of his sanity had also disappeared throughout his various moments of tragedy. And Daryl could not condemn him for that. It wasn't like it hadn't ever happened to all of them before. No one was who they once was. It was impossible to be.

"Would make things easier if we had a map," Morgan mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the mask over his face. "Don't wanna take the wrong route and end up in the mountains. 'Specially with winter comin'."

"Road signs will have to do," mumbled Daryl, wincing as his bow knocked against his bad shoulder. "Ain't like we got much else to go on."

His eyes flickered over to Beth, the gun she had found back at house hanging miraculously from a belt loop. It had maybe three rounds left, if not less. Unless they found some ammunition, it would be as good as trash once used up. Yet, the archer knew it was better than nothing. At this stage, any weapon was worth its weight in gold. He exhaled, letting his gaze fix on Morgan. The other man was pretty well armed-a gun, probably more loaded than Beth's, and at least a knife or two-whether he'd use it for good or to slay both him and Beth during the night, the bowman was not quite sure. This man had yet to earn any of his trust and until that point in time, if ever, he would keep his guard up.

"Did you see any sign of what might've happened to Rick and the others," Morgan inquired, not letting his gaze wander from the interstate ahead of them. "Beth mentioned you went to check but clearly came back alone."

Daryl's mind traveled back to the charred body of the walker, its features unrecognizable from the flames. Though he couldn't tell who it was, his gut feeling told him it hadn't been any one of his friends. Yet, it didn't seem important enough to mention now. Not with Beth around. She had a lot to worry about as it was and bringing down her faith wouldn't do any of them good.

"No,' he admitted. "No, I saw nothin'."

Morgan nodded his head thoughtfully. "Could mean that they're still alive," he decided. "So Washington has a cure?"

"We ain't know for sure," the archer mumbled. "Your guess is as good as ours."

Whether Daryl's irritability was due to his pain or his distrust in Morgan, his mood seemed to be declining by the second. He chose not to speak much, taking out walkers when they got in the way, occasionally throwing a glance or two in Beth's direction. The wind was beginning to pick up, the sky growing dark with the threat of a storm. As they continued on, somewhat slower than before, a sign caught the girl's attention, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"What?" Daryl asked, turning around to look at Beth when she ceased movement. "What's wrong?"

"Rest stop," she replied, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile as she pointed at a faded, but still evidently marked sign. "Maybe they got bathrooms."

"Course they got bathrooms," the archer mumbled, unable to keep his attitude from slipping when he spoke to her. "Sure they're also crawlin' with a shit ton of walkers."

"Vending machines could have food," Morgan suggested, glancing towards the landmark. "We could use some more."

"What? Stale candy bars and flat sodas?" Daryl grumbled, adjusting his bow. "Fightin' through a herd of corpses ain't worth that crap."

"I need to use the bathroom," Beth said, meeting Daryl's stare. "A stall would be nice."

"And trees work jus' as well," the bowman frowned, clearly not pleased with Beth's sudden urge to use the finer facilities.

"I need to use the bathroom," she repeated, enunciating each word as her stare fixated on Daryl's.

Realization sunk in within moments of comprehending her words. Between discovering what could be Carl's hat and getting shot, Daryl had completely forgotten about Beth's current issue when it came to using the restroom. He inhaled, nodding his head as he glanced towards the few miles long road that would lead to the rest stop. There was a chance that it could be crawling with walkers, something that would not be easy to diminish. But on the off chance that the population was slim, Beth would be able to relieve herself in the comforts of a more privatized area.

"Everythin' alright?" Morgan asked, looking from Beth to Daryl with a curious tone.

"Yeah," the archer mumbled, pulling his crossbow from his shoulder to position it. "Rest stop might not be so bad after all."

Except for a few walkers, the path up to their destination appeared to be relatively clear. Nevertheless, Daryl did not stray far from Beth's side. Despite the pain in his shoulder, his crossbow was always posed, ready to release an arrow if given the opportunity. Morgan too was sporting one of the few weapons Daryl knew he carried, which currently happened to be a handgun complete with an odd structure that the archer soon concluded was a homemade, temporary silencer. Whether it was for not bringing more attention to himself around walkers or a more sinister reason, Daryl was unsure and rather preferred not to think about it.

"You alright?" He inquired, concern washing across his expression when he noticed Beth wince.

"Ankles," she admitted, her smile thin as she glanced down. "Been botherin' me a lot lately. Guess it's the extra weight."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, the skin still raw from where he had gnawed on it before. "You don't," he paused, trying to figure out what exactly he could say. "...look fat. Just pregnant."

It was meant to be a compliment, though the archer had never been good with words. Such could be seen early on in the apocalypse when he briefly found Andrea somewhat attractive and decided to share his "itchy ass" tale with her. He'd never been good with women, not like Merle was with his slight charm when it came to the drunken, bar crawlers back when life was more livable. But Beth seemed to understand his struggle, as trivial as the problem was. Her smile was genuine as she met his awkward stare, not seeming at all bothered by what he said.

"Thanks, Daryl," she said. "That was really sweet."

He mumbled something inaudible in response, stiffening when she unexpectedly pressed a kiss to his cheek. Affection was not something he dealt with often and was often taken aback when it occurred. Yet it was Beth, she having far more relationships in her short lifetime than he did in a few decades. He inhaled, watching as she began to walk again before he went back to doing so himself.

As expected, several walkers had wandered their way upon the premises of the site, but nothing compared to what it could have been. There was the softest click as Morgan prepared his weapon, eyes locking on one walker that seemed to have taken notice of them. In an instant, it was on the ground, even more lifeless than it had previously been. Daryl could hear Beth inhale beside him, his gaze following hers to the littered and ancient looking building that housed the bathrooms.

"You got the outside?" Daryl asked, looking to the other man who nodded. "I'll take her inside, guess whistle or somethin' if somethin' comes up."

Morgan nodded, his expression invisible due to the mask he sported. "If you aren't out in fifteen minutes, I got no choice but to assume the worse."

Daryl nodded his head, losing Morgan not seeming that severe at the moment. "Fair enough."

With that, the other man disappeared, heading towards the opposite side of the building to take care of any potential walkers that caused a threat. Daryl looked to Beth, their eyes meeting as an unsaid means of communication found them both. His gaze traveled down to her side as she withdrew her weapon from the belt, removing the safety feature before glancing to him again. In silence, they began to move towards the building, attempting to prepare themselves for what horrors could lay inside.

**Sorry for such a short chapter, there was a lot more I wanted to put into it, but it will be placed in part two. I don't like going without updating too long so I did my best to have a little something written for you guys before I headed off to work for the evening. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, I promise some Bethyl fluff (in character, of course) in the next chapter as well as something that will move the story more along (it's about time after ten chapters, Beth's pregnancy travel beyond the six month mark). Anyway, I shall hopefully have something available on Tuesday! Until then! -Jen**


	11. Chapter nine: (Part Two)

**Real quick before we begin, there are rumors going around that Beth will die this season. Even IF that happens, I WILL continue this story. No one is truly dead as long as they are remembered and Beth will always and forever be alive for me. Besides, I really love writing this story, I can't say that enough. So, as usual, much thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongirl, Guest, Sillymommy2010, rckyfrk, heatherrk, lucky713, islandgirl33, PolkaDotSocks93, boothandbones4ever, cybil2113, hossfan, and Emma Kellogg for your lovely feedback messages! And much gratitude to those who have favorited and followed! Now to continue! **

Chapter nine: (Part Two)

A fine film of dust and cobwebs masked the door handle, making the appearance seem far more ancient than the building truly was. Various advertisements and flyers laden the glass windows, combining with the interior darkness to make it near to impossible to see what lurked inside. Daryl inhaled, the frigid temperatures burning his lungs as he watched Beth position her gun out of the corner of his eye. With his good arm, he rapped on the glass, stare concentrated on the spot as he waited.

Almost instantly, he was greeted by the snarls of what he guessed were four or five walkers, their rotting mouths pressed to the window, boney, decaying fingers dragging hungrily across the surface. So primitive, lacking any sort of humanity now, it was like gazing at a caged animal in the zoo. Daryl waved Beth back, thrusting the door open with a few tugs, knife in hand to quickly end their existence as they stumbled out into the open light for what could have been the first time in years.

"Think that's all of 'em?" Beth murmured, eyes fixed on the last walker as Daryl withdrew his weapon from its skull.

"Dunno," he mumbled, glancing into the dark interior of the building. "Keep an eye out."

The stench cut through the coolness of the atmosphere as the pair stepped inside of the structure. After years of dealing with it, the archer had been under the impression that he had grown immune to such aromas, but the combination of death and indisposed sewage made his stomach lurch in disgust. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the uneasiness in Beth's expression, her lips pressed firmly together as if the threat of vomiting had been dramatically increased. He deduced that pregnancy did that to women, remembering vaguely being at a bar with Merle-back when things were decent-and a pregnant woman becoming ill simply because her husband had ordered a side of onion rings and the smell didn't agree with her.

"You alright?" He murmured, eyes meeting hers.

She nodded, her chest rising slowly as she took a few steps forward. She didn't say anything, perhaps her nausea prohibiting her from doing so, but she remained in control of it nevertheless. Cautiously, crossbow and gun raised, they began to move through the lobby, the sound of their footsteps echoing throughout the empty structure. It was a little eerie, seeing all of the posters of happy families in various vacation spots around the state. One even promoted a county fair that was set to occur just months after the outbreak started. He'd personally never attended an event such as that and briefly found himself wondering what such would have been like. It helped, after all, momentarily deter from the worrisome thoughts that too often plagued his mind now.

When they finally came to the bathroom entrance, Daryl nudged the door open slowly with his foot. He paused, arrow pointed through the sliver of space as he waited for anything to appear. Surprisingly, such did not occur. No growls. No shuffles. The archer inhaled, immediately regretting his decision as the air reeked worse here than it had anywhere else. Glancing once at Beth, he forced the door the rest of the way open, almost gagging as the full extent of the smell hit his nose.

"Christ," he hissed, throat and eyes equally burning from its strength. "You sure you wanna-"

"Yes," Beth nodded, her tone sounding strained from the effort it took not to regurgitated what little she had eaten that morning. "Let's just hurry and check everythin'."

From stall to stall they went, attention fixed for any sign that a walker-or what could easily be left of one-lurked within the areas. Finally, after Daryl was satisfied that nothing unexpected could possibly appear while he was outside, he lowered his crossbow. Beth stood against a sink, arms crossed firmly over her chest as she eyed the bathroom with slight displeasure. It was clear the smell was making this far less worth than what it had seemed early. But they were here now and that in itself was something they could not waste.

"I'll be right outside," the bowman said, meeting Beth's stare. "You shout if anythin' happens, alright? Don't care if it's jus' a bug hittin' the window. If you hear-"

"I can handle myself," Beth assured him. "I had a good teacher after all."

Her tone was genuine, lips playing into a small, but meaningful smile. Daryl watched her for a moment, a part of him wanting to stay just to make sure. But he remembered the hospital. Recalled both Noah's and Beth's tales about the happenings before they were rescued. She was no longer the timid farm girl he'd met those many months back. She was a woman. A brave, independent survivor who had adapted just like they all had to do. Of course she still had her moments, who didn't. But Beth was more than capable of protecting herself. Even though such was starting to get slightly harder with the impending birth of their child.

Daryl exited the bathroom without another word to Beth, deciding that maybe he could busy himself by looking around. He remained in close proximity to the bathroom as he began to examine the various strewn objects that had been abandoned so long ago. Money. Purses. A crushed pack of cigarettes he decided to take for the hell of it (wasn't like he smoked anymore, but maybe it'd be worth something to trade if the chance came). Some feminine products. A packet of most likely stale peanuts. Until his attention was drawn to an object shoved underneath a display case.

He got on his knees, grunting as his shoulder protested his attempt to reach under and grab the thing. Finally, after much effort, he managed to withdraw the possession. A book. The cover was torn, ruined with water and mold, but the title despite its faintness was still clear enough to read. _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. _Nothing that he'd ever heard before. Then again, the archer wasn't much of a reader unless it came to wrestling magazines or the occasional porno Merle left sitting on the sofa. He began to flip through it, eyes scanning the text simply out of both boredom and curiosity.

"Good book?"

Daryl whipped around, a jolt of pain shooting through his shoulder as he caught sight of Beth standing behind him. He stature relaxed somewhat, relief flooding over him at the realization that it was only her. He'd been so engrossed in the damn thing, he hadn't even heard her leave the bathroom. The archer exhaled, closing the book as he held it towards the girl.

"I ain't even hear you come out," he mumbled. "Don't be sneakin' up on people like that."

Beth smiled, taking the book from Daryl. As her eyes flickered over the cover, a look of recognition crossed her features. She inhaled, fingers delicately trailing across the surface as if this mere object was some prized possession.

"This was one of my favorites," she admitted, chuckling softly. "Had to read it in school. Kinda reminds me of you now that I think about it. The main character, I mean."

"What about me?" Daryl asked, unsure if he should feel offended or not. "What's it about?"

"You know about Tom Sawyer?" Daryl only shrugged in response. "Well it's about his best friend, Huck Finn. See, the boy's father's a drunk and Huck runs off one day with this slave named Jim? They go on adventures and such, it's a good book. You got his attitude. Huck's."

The corners of Daryl's mouth twitched into a frown, Beth seemingly unaware of his displeasure. Not that he'd ever shared with her-wasn't something he much cared to talk about-but the description wasn't too far off from his own father. Of course, he realized, she hadn't ever meant it in that way. Beth was sweet and would never had made the connection if she knew, but his childhood had been far from happy. In a way, maybe he was a lot like this Huck Finn. Except there had been no Jim to keep him company, only himself.

"C'mon," he mumbled, looking towards the door. "Morgan's probably waiting."

The sky was beginning to turn a foreboding shade of gray as Daryl and Beth exited the rest stop building. Daryl inhaled, placing an arrow in his crossbow as they moved towards the back of the foundation. A few walkers wandered about, not seeming to have their attentions caught by the archer and his companion as they wound in and out of the abandoned cars. Daryl peered around, a feeling of uncertainty finding him when Morgan didn't immediately appear in his line of vision. As he considered going back around to the front, half wondering if the man had already left them, he felt Beth nudge his side.

"Look."

Not too far off, leaning out of the window of an eighteen wheeler truck, was none other than Morgan. He waved to them, silently motioning for them to come forward. Daryl looked to Beth, adjusting his bow as she began to head towards their other group member. It was quiet out, the only sounds being the occasional wail of the wind or the distant grunts of a walker. When they drew close enough, the blood in Daryl's veins suddenly froze. A hum. An engine rumbling. The damn thing was running.

"Got it to work," Morgan muttered, hopping out of the driver's seat to help Beth ease her way up into the back. "Took a few mechanics classes in high school. Guess I didn't forget everythin'."

"You know how to drive it?" Daryl asked, skepticism outweighing his astonishment. "It's pretty damn big."

"Can't be that hard," Morgan exhaled, looking towards the truck. "Has a good amount of diesel in it too. Guess people forgot about that during the gas rush. Won't be easy, but it sure as hell beats walking. Can't say how far it'll get us though. What with the roads all clogged up. Still, it's warm. Walkers can't reach us from that high. Could use it as a shelter if nothin' else."

The archer glanced up towards the inside of the truck, noting that Beth had completely disappeared from sight. He knew well enough that such vehicles, due to their business, had space in the back for the truckers when day trips turned into nights. At least Beth would be able to rest. She needed that if nothing else. Yet an eighteen wheeler was big and far from conspicuous. They'd have to be careful, if they were lucky enough to get the monster of a mobile anywhere.

"We can take the back roads," Morgan suggested. "Less crowded than the highways. Might be a map in there too. Ya'll came out before I could check."

Daryl nodded thoughtfully, the vehicle seeming more welcoming as a large gust of wind blew. Anything was better than nothing. That much he had learned even before the outbreak. And on the off chance that it did work, maybe they'd come across Rick and the others on the road. Exhaling, the bowman nodded his head, adjusting his bow over his good shoulder as he moved to climb inside.

"We take shifts," he mumbled. "Rotate."

"Alright," Morgan agreed, glancing up towards the sky. "We should get goin' though. Sky don't look too welcoming."

**xXx**

As Morgan had anticipated, the atmosphere suddenly light up with the tiny, but unmistakable snowflakes. Daryl watched, slightly in awe as they danced in front of the headlights as the truck rumbled down the road. It was late evening now, the highway disappearing into a two lane highway that seemed almost nonexistent under the coverage of leaves and branches that had blown over on top of it. But it was warm. Safe inside. And the bowman allowed himself to find some comfort in that.

"It gets you wonderin'," Beth murmured, Daryl peering back from the passenger seat to see her reclining, the novel propped up on her stomach. "I guess we are kinda like how these people were in the 1800's. Well, with the exception of walkers and the somewhat readily available technology. Other than that though..." She touched her stomach, smile softening. "Hey, whaddya think of the name Huck?"

"Rhymes with somethin', don' it?" Daryl said, looking to meet Beth's unamused stare. "Jus' sayin'."

"Named my son after Bruce Wayne," Morgan admitted, not letting his gaze linger too long off the path. It was nearly dark due to the storm, the headlights offering what little illumination they could. "Batman? Not exactly the same name, but we sort of played around with it and got Duane. Big fan of the comics growing up. I remember goin' to the store and gettin' some penny candy and one of the newer editions to the series." He paused, fingers tightening around the wheel. "Guess what I'm tryin' to say is, it's not so bad to name someone after a piece of literature you like...not that comics are that, but it was somethin' I was passionate about as a teenager. Thought about doin' somethin' like that until I met Jenny."

Daryl didn't need to ask to figure out that Jenny probably had been Morgan's wife. What had happened to her was probably what had also happened to Merle. To Sophia. Hershel. The archer glanced behind him briefly, noting how the snow seemed to be getting progressively heavier as it fell. Maybe the temperatures would be somewhat warmer in Washington. The snow slight if existing at all. His gaze wandered back to Beth, back to the smile and friendliness that shown in her expression. The corners of his mouth twitched, the faintest of smiles beginning to play on his own expression when he was immediately snapped back into reality by Morgan's cry.

"Shit!" The man hissed, the tires screeching as the vehicle veered onto the opposite side of the road. "Goddammit!"

For a moment, the archer was in a blissful confusion, his vision obscured by the wintry weather ahead of them. It wasn't until the truck drew closer, the brakes seeming to fail due to the speed, that the initial horror set in. Ahead of them, just seeming yards away, appeared to be some oddly construed roadblock. Until the headlights shown on it, it almost appeared to be completely invisible against the night. Daryl gripped his seat, gaze flying back to Beth as Morgan struggled and failed to regain control of the vehicle.

The last image to grace his mind was that of Beth. The fear masking the usual hope in her features as the truck barreled off the side of the road, smashing through the metal guarder as it turned onto its side, skidding down the slope of the hill. His head it the dashboard as the wreckage finally collided with a cluster of trees, its motion immediately stopped.

Everything went black.

**I hope no one was expecting a happy-go-lucky bethyl baby story. Nothing comes that easy in an apocalypse which is why I plan to stay true to the show's roots and have my little cliffies here and there. But don't worry too much. There would be no story with Bethyl. And there would be no story without the pregnancy. So at least let that ease your mind somewhat. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Seriously keeps me writing! Until next update! -Jen**


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